How About A Change Of Scene
by mush14meyers
Summary: Sequel to 'You're My Chance to Break Free.' After Ella leaves the orphanage to live with the newsies and her best friend, Silver, she's unsure if she'll ever be able to fit in with them.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original characters from the Disney movie, "Newsies." The only characters in this story that I claim ownership over are Silver, Ella, Mrs. VanWyck, and Jayson.

Wow. I never thought I'd be so happy to write a disclaimer again. I'M BACK! I thought I was done with newsies because I wanted to write my own stories with my own original characters. Then I thought, why should I? I love writing newsies fics more than I love writing anything else. I missed writing newsies. I missed this site. I missed you guys. So here I am. :D

Now, I promised myself that I'd NEVER write a sequel. The ideas just get reused, and the plot often gets boring, as do the characters. So I lied. I'm writing a sequel. But I guess it's an acception, because it's in a different point of view. (for most of it, anyway.) This is a sequel to "You're My Chance To Break Free." To those of you who didn't read it: I'm pretty sure you'll catch on if you decide to read this story and not the one before it. There's nothing too important that you absolutely need to know, and if there is it's briefly explained in this story.

I was just so excited to get this out, so I barely wrote anything except what you see here. I'll be doing a lot of writing for this story very soon, but the chapters won't be coming out extremely fast. Sorry. However, I'll get this story updated as often as humanly possible. Enough pointless babbling. Enjoy :D

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There wasn't any turning back now, no looking over my shoulder. I had to keep going if I was going to get away with this, because if someone caught on I would lead them right to my best friend. If Mrs. VanWyck followed me, I'd be bringing her directly to Silver.

I had to wait for the perfect opportunity to run. I stayed put until right before dinner was served. Mrs. VanWyck had already taken a count of all the children in the orphanage as soon as they'd come in from being outside all day, so if I could get out without being seen I'd be unnoticed until bedtime. No one would realize my absence until they found my bunk empty and my belongings gone, but I'd be long gone by then.

Like always around this time, the dining hall was swarming with disorder, since all the children were down there at once. Going out one of the second-story windows would've probably been the smarter thing to do. That was how Silver escaped, but I'd rather just take my chances. I was terrified of heights. I was able to slip out the front door without being seen by anyone. Except Jayson, but Jay wouldn't tell. He caught my eye and winked, telling me in one motion that he'd act as surprised as everyone else once they found that I was missing.

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I knocked frantically on the door, glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone was behind me. My foot tapped nervously on the stoop as I waited for someone to come to the door. I never would have pictured myself running away from the orphanage. I never liked taking risks or changing routine. And yet by leaving my so-called-home of nearly 6 years, my whole life was about to switch around on me.

All my anxiety slipped away for a moment when Silver opened the door. It had been a long two weeks since I'd seen her. The longest we'd ever been apart since we became friends, actually.

"E-Ella?" She stuttered. I smiled at the confusion in her voice. It was good to see her. "Hey Silver." I replied. I repositioned the strap of my knapsack so it was more comfortable over my shoulder. "Jus' wondering... You got any free bunks here?"

Silver blinked a few times and shook the look of shock off her face. Finally, she opened the door wider. "Pfft. For you? Course we do." We both broke out into wide grins as she pulled me in for a hug. After a few seconds, Silver pulled away, ushering me into the lobby of the lodging house and closing the door behind me.

"So it took ya two weeks to finally get outta dere, huh?" She questioned. I shrugged one of my shoulders, but my voice was caught in my throat when I turned around to see roughly 20 boys scattered around the room. I gulped. _This may be harder than I thought..._

Nearly 2 dozen pairs of eyes turned their attention to where I was standing next to Silver. I could feel them watching me suspiciously, so I looked anywhere but at the boys' faces. I felt like the outcast already, and I hadn't been three minutes. Silver was the only girl besides myself, and she was still dressed in her boys' clothes from disguising herself while selling papers that afternoon. I wore a long white skirt and a lavender blouse, which made me feel entirely out of place.

"Well, you guys gonna sit dere and stare or git up 'nd say hello?" Silver asked loudly. Some of the tension in the room broke as most of the boys stood up and wandered over. Kid Blink was the first one to come over to where we stood. I'd never met him personally before, but yet I recognized him from Silver's descriptions of him; Blonde-colored hair, a brown eye patch, and a great smile. As Silver introduced him to me, he slipped an arm over her shoulders.

I muttered my hello, but kept my eyes to the floor instead of on him. I never really enjoyed the awkwardness of meeting new people. But for now I'd have to suck it up, because there were about 20 more names to learn. I still couldn't shake the thought that this wasn't such a good idea.

Silver went around the circle of newsboys that had formed around us. She pointed out the next two boys in the line; Bumlets and Snipeshooter. Then came a break in the circle, where I could see two teenagers on the other side of the room. Both seemed oblivious to everything else as they battled for victory in their card game.

I recognized one. The Italian who I had talked to when Silver was about to leave the city. Racetrack, his name was, kept his cards in one hand and his slowly burning cigar in the other. "Dose two, da ones who are too _rude_ and _inconsiderate_ to greet ya," Silver raised her voice at the two words to emphasize their meaning, "are Jack 'nd Racetrack."

Jack gave a small wave of acknowledgement, but kept his eyes on his cards. Race, however, said nothing. His attention was glued to his cards and he furrowed his eyebrows in thought. Silver cleared her throat, waiting for him to say something. After a moment, Racetrack's mouth went from a straight line to a smile.

"Well? You gonna say somethin'?" Kid Blink asked. Racetrack's smile got a noticeable amount bigger. "Sure am. Three aces 'nd two kings. Beat ya again, Cowboy." Sighs, eye-rolls, and groans from the group followed Racetrack's response. As they turned back around to face me, I assumed Race's sarcasm wasn't a new occurrence around here.

Silver continued to point from left to right around the circle, listing off their names. Specs, Boots, Skittery, Mush, Snoddy, Swifty, Pie Eater... The nicknames swarmed around in my head as I tried to match them with faces. Perhaps it would have been easier if they had normal names. But nope, not a Joseph or a Michael in the bunch.

My eyes scanned over their faces as I mumbled greetings in return for theirs', but my gaze stopped at one particular boy. He was the last in the row and to be honest, he looked as uncomfortable as I was feeling at the moment. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets and his head was bowed. The boy's light-colored hair hung in front of his eyes and behind the lenses of his glasses. Every few seconds he would steal short, furtive glances at me, but I couldn't bring myself to break the stare I had on him.

"Ella? El, did ya heah me?" Silver's voice finally registered in my brain and my head snapped up to look at her. "Hm? Wha? Oh, no... sorry." I replied softly, slightly embarrassed. "I said, dis is Dutchy." Silver repeated.

"Oh...Er, hello." I muttered. My greetings toward the other newsies hadn't exactly been relaxed, but this one came out especially awkward. Or maybe that's just how it sounded to my own ears.

However, the boy- Dutchy- looked up and met my eye contact for more than a second this time. He didn't say anything, but his mouth turned upwards to form an uncomfortable, yet sincere, smile. It was just simply a smile, but for some reason it felt to me like the best greeting I received all night.

**Silver's Point Of View.**

Ella must've realized that she had a distant smile on her lips, because she quickly turned away and blushed. Dutchy looked back down and wandered back towards the couches with the other newsies. I raised my eyebrow at this occurrence, but thought nothing else of it.

"Hi dere, Ella, is it?" Ella whirled around quickly with a stunned expression on her face. I laughed. I don't think she realized that Kloppman had been sitting at the desk behind her. "Yes." She answered finally. I could tell that Ella was a little jumpy. She always got that way around new people. "Need a bunk?" Kloppman asked. She nodded.

I put a hand on her shoulder and guided her closer to the desk. "El, dis is Kloppman. He's in charge of dis place." She nodded again to show that she understood. "I'se got 5 cents on me... Is dat enough?" Ella asked in practically a whisper. "Shoah, for da foist couple of nights. You'se can jus' earn da rest sellin' papes 'nd pay when you'se got it." Kloppman pushed the book towards her and handed Ella a pen, indicating for her to sign.

"You'se lucky, goil. Dat's da last bunk we'se got right now." He said. "Good thing, too... Because if Silver brings any more goils here da boys is gonna have a field day." He muttered as an afterthought. I couldn't help but grin and roll my eyes.

While Ella's head was bowed as she signed her name, Kloppman motioned for me to come closer. I leaned slightly over the desk. "Shy one we'se got heah, huh?" He whispered. I shrugged. "She's jus' a bit overwhelmed at da moment... She'll git better." I whispered back.

Just two weeks ago, I was in the same situation that Ella was in now. Still, spending those two weeks at the lodging house made me feel like I'd known the newsies forever. Ella might take a little longer to get settled than I had, but that's just the way she was. _Give her some time._ I told myself. _She'll fit right in eventually_.

El closed the book and put the pen down. She looked up at Kloppman as if she were waiting for further instruction from him. "Okay. Dat's it." He said, putting the book on a shelf underneath the surface of the desk. I turned to Ella. "A'right. El, go put yer bag next to da stairs. We'll bring yer stuff up to da bunk room later on."

**Ella's Point Of View.**

After taking off my knapsack, I leaned it against the base of the staircase. Then I looked up and scanned the room for Silver, who had disappeared from my side. I found her seated next to Kid Blink on the couch. Once I caught her eye, she motioned for me to come sit next to her on the opposite side. I wandered over, nearly tripping on a few newsies who were sprawled out on the floor, arm-wrestling.

Once I was seated, I looked around the room to take in its features. It was a lot louder than the orphanage. Mrs. VanWyck never would've allowed the orphanage to be _this_ loud. Still, the lodging house building had a different feel to it than my former home. It felt much more lived-in and welcoming.

"I'se hungry." One of the newsies stated. I tried to place the name of the boy who had said it. _Snitch? No, that's not it... Maybe that's Swifty_. While he waited for the others to respond, the boy wiped his nose on his sleeve. _Snoddy._

"So am I." Crutchy agreed. His nickname was a dead giveaway, so I knew him right off the bat. "Tibby's, anyone?" Cowboy suggested. Another dead giveaway. The newsies mumbled in agreement and started to stand up. Silver turned to me and shrugged as if to say, "_You comin_g?"

I was sort of overwhelmed with the fact that I'd be living with nearly two dozen rowdy boys. After running away and having to be introduced to all of them (again, meeting new people obviously wasn't my strong point), I figured I'd already had a pretty long night. But I was hungry, and maybe it would be best if I spent some more time getting to know them...

I shrugged back at Silver and stood up, as well. _Can't possibly be that bad, right? _

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Hah. wrong. Newsies causing havoc in Tibby's? Yay!

Thanks for reading! Please review if you can. I'd love to hear what people think.

Okay: One more quick thing. The newsies rally is in 7 days. Exactly one week. Anyone who would still like to go, this is pretty much the last call. If you want to go, tell me and I'll be more than happy to send you the website. For those of you who have no clue what I'm talking about, Newsies fans from all over are meeting in New York City for two days (July 27th and 28th) to do Newsies related stuff, such as visiting places mentioned in the movie and screaming off particular bridges :D. Oh, and I'm going to need your actual E-mail address to send the link. For some reason links get deleted when sent through private messages on this website. Sorry.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original characters from the Disney movie, "Newsies." The only characters in this story that I claim ownership over are Ella, Silver, Jayson, and Mrs. VanWyck.

Hey guys. Wow, it took me so long to get this chapter out. Sorry about that. I've been going crazy, trying to get ready for the Newsies Rally. (5 Days!! If anyone's still planning on going and needs info on it, you can find the site by typing in "2007 Newsies Rally" in just about any search bar on the internet.) My friends and I are all going dressed as Newsies (As of yesterday, I finally found some quite-Mush-looking brown short-pants) so we've been looking for clothes, not to mention doing a whole lot of planning. All my friends have to be at my house at 5:30 AM so we can get to the city on time, and then we have to catch the train and hope to god we take the right subway... In Racetrack's words, "dear me." Anyway, sorry for the wait. Here goes.

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Even though I'd lived in New York City for almost 6 years, I'd never been to Tibby's before. While I lived in the orphanage, most of us didn't have jobs. We had very little spending money to use on going out to places like diners, so we always just ate at the orphanage.

I absolutely loved the diner. What with the beige pattered wallpaper, the quaint lamps and the old pictures on the wall, it reminded me of a diner I used to go to with my mother when I was really young.

The newsies filled just about half of the small room. Of course, there wasn't a table big enough for all of us to sit, so the newsies split up into smaller groups and all chose tables towards the same general side of the diner.

Silver pulled me to a table where she was sitting along with Kid Blink, Racetrack, Cowboy, and a boy introduced to me as David. I made a mental note of the name, but it would be one of the easier ones to remember since it wasn't a nickname. David was quiet towards me, but he and Cowboy were arguing non stop since we first sat down. They seemed to be arguing innocently, as if they were good friends, but it was still obvious that they had different views on everything.

Every few minutes, David would also tip his chair backwards to talk to a young boy at the table behind us. I assumed that he was his little brother, because David kept a strict eye on him at all times. Every once in a while, he'd bark orders like "Les! Stop getting up from the table!" or "Les! Tibby's isn't the place for you to play with a wooden sword!" Then Cowboy would elbow David, and mumble something along the lines of, "Aw, let da kid have some fun..."

By the time we all had ordered our food, Silver was in a detailed conversation with Kid Blink. Cowboy and David were still arguing over one thing or another, and Racetrack was moving around the napkin holder and the salt and pepper shakers, seemingly looking for something.

Since I had nothing better to do while we waited, I began to look around the diner, trying to get the newsies' names down. I was starting to get better at it as the names and faces started to stick in my mind. That's when I noticed that one newsie was missing. Dutchy wasn't seated anywhere in the small room. I was about to nudge Silver and ask her where he could be, but then I decided against it. She would wonder what difference it made to me, anyway.

Everything was going fine, and my worries about the newsies were slowly starting to slip away. That is, until our meals came. The waiters began to put dishes of food on the tables, but Racetrack paid no attention to that. He was still searching for something, growing angrier by the second. "Where is it!?" He muttered impatiently to himself.

Skittery overheard him and turned around in his seat. "Where's what, Race?" He asked, picking up his sandwich that the waiter had placed in front of him. "Me cigar! I know I brought it heah... Jus' had it, five minutes ago..."

Just as Racetrack finished his sentence, I looked past his shoulder and saw Snipeshooter. He was sitting at Les' table, along with Boots and Snitch. The boy had a cigar wedged between his lips, but when he heard what Racetrack said he quickly took it out of his mouth and hid it behind his back.

Race suddenly stopped looking and froze, as if he had just thought of something. After a moment, he turned around on his heel and began slowly advancing towards Snipeshooter. Snipeshooter, looking quite terrified as he glanced up at Racetrack, gulped.

"H-hey, Race." He stuttered. Racetrack's glare hardened. "Where is it, squirt?" He asked with annoyance, using the collar of his shirt to pull Snipeshooter to his feet. "Where's what?" He played dumb, but the look of guilt on the boy's face gave him away. "You know what! Me cigar!" Race stated.

Without meaning to, Snipeshooter's trembling hand dropped the cigar from behind his back. Racetrack looked down at his cigar on the floor, growling irritably as he bent down to pick it up. "I knew it! Quit stealin' me stuff, would ya, Snipes? I swear, I should soak ya!" Racetrack yelled. By now the entire diner had quieted down and all the newsies had turned in their seats, peering over towards the two boys.

Racetrack looked like he was ready to punch the petrified boy, but Cowboy cut in. "Race, calm down, will ya? Take a deep breath." Racetrack let go of Snipeshooter's collar, but the frustrated look in his eyes didn't go away. Then something on the table next to him caught his eye. A plate, filled with chicken and mashed potatoes. Racetrack had an idea.

He slowly scooped up some of the mashed potatoes. As he held it, he glanced from the food in his hand to Snipeshooter. Then abruptly, he flung his arm forward, sending the mashed potatoes through the air until the food splattered all over Snipeshooter's face.

The boy's mouth dropped open and Racetrack smirked right back. The air in the room was tense until Snipeshooter, out of rage, picked up a glass of soda, dumping it all over Racetrack's head. The icecubes fell to the floor and the coke dripped down Race's face and soaked into his clothing. The rest of us had to hold in laughter. We wouldn't dare make Race any angrier than he already was.

Just as he picked up another plate (This one full of spaghetti) to shove into Snipeshooter's face, Specs jumped to his feet with a palm full of beans and yelled, "Food fight!"

Within a matter of seconds, everyone was up off their chairs and running around. I, however, was frozen in place. I was only brought back to reality when a slice of ham from a sandwich hit me square in the face, which I rapidly wiped off. I scrambled off my seat and dropped to my hands and knees, crawling underneath the table.

From there I watched the incident unfold. Waiters and waitresses fumbled around, attempting to stop all the newsies without tripping over food scraps lying on the floor. Racetrack and Snipeshooter were covered with the most food at this time, still going at it and flinging anything at each other that they could get their hands on.

Silver and Blink were over on the other side of the diner, acting as a team while ducking behind one of the booth seats. Snitch put butter in his hand and smacked Skittery across the face, so the butter smeared from Skittery's ear all the way down to his mouth. David was hurrying towards a more shielded area with Les in tow, until he skidded and slipped on a gravy puddle on the floor. The two both landed on the floor. Les was laughing like a maniac, while David couldn't look more upset.

Jake snuck up behind Itey and poured a whole bowl of coleslaw down his shirt, while Crutchy opened up the salt and pepper shakers and dumped them over Snoddy's head.

Bumlets had Swifty cornered against a wall as he squirted mustard and catsup at him through plastic squeeze-bottles. Mush was pitching clumps of rice at Boots, who was attempting to hit them with the wooden sword as if he were playing stickball. However, most of the rice-clumps missed and hit the window behind Boots, splattering all over the place.

Jack had just hit Pie Eater with a hard boiled egg when Silver slid underneath the table. She was covered from head to toe in food and she grinned at me as she wiped some of the oatmeal off her face. "Well, you'se managed to stay pretty clean." She commented. I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. "T-they're animals!" I finally managed. Silver laughed.

"If ya take a run for it now, I'm shoah you'se can get outta heah before it gets worse." I nodded quickly and waited for the opportune moment to leave my shelter. Finally, I crawled out from under the table and, on my hands and knees, advanced towards the door. A couple of times, my limbs slid out from under me because of all the soup and condiments on the floor. I ended up sprawled out on my stomach, but quickly got up again.

Just as I reached the door, someone flung a plateful of salad in my direction. Sliced cucumbers, tomatoes, and lettuce got stuck in my hair, but the salad luckily didn't have any dressing on it. I scrambled to my feet and closed the front door to Tibby's behind me just as a whole plate of shepard's pie hit the glass.

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Wow, I had so much fun writing this chapter. Huge thanks to my good friend **Tetris**, whom without her help I would not have been able to write this :D To everyone else, thanks for reading!

**SantaFeDreamer**: Yay! I'm so happy you decided to read this! I was afraid that I'd lose a lot of my old readers by the time I came back :D Glad you like the story... Dutchy does seem like he'd be a sweetie, doesn't he?. :)

**Passionate Fire:** ::Dances for joy right along with you:: haha Yeah, I don't think I've ever come across a non-slash Dutchy fic either... So I figured, "Alright. I've written Mush, Race, Skittery, Blink, Spot, David... Why not Dutchy?!. :D" Thanks for the review, and I'm glad to hear from you again!

**Racerchick:** Believe me, I'm way happy to be back! Having my own original characters was cool for a while, but I guess once a newsies freak always a newsies freak :). Thanks for reading the prequel to this, and I'm really glad you enjoyed it. I'm also really glad that you decided to keep reading my writing!

**Spinner:** It was great to hear from you again! I'm thrilled about being back. Yeah, I wanted to make Ella different from the rest of my characters, and I didn't want to make her a mary-sue. When I wrote the prequel to this, I wasn't planning on making a sequel with Ella as the main character, so when I gave her the whole blonde-hair-blue-eyes thing I think I sorta screwed myself over, haha. I just hope she doesn't come off as too shy and too ordinary.

**ktkakes:** Yay! My oldest reader, lol. I was absolutely thrilled when I found that you sent me a review, because I wasn't sure if you would keep reading or not... With your last review, you hit the nail right on the head with the newsies being rowdy. Especially in this chapter! And don't worry about repeating yourself in the reviews, believe me, I really appreciate the positive comments you always send!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original characters from the Disney movie, "Newsies."

Hey guys :D Sorry the updates have been kinda slow... I've had so much crap to do in the past couple of days, so I barely had any time to write.

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I half expected Kloppman to be behind the front desk when I got back, but he wasn't. The lodging house seemed completely empty as I grabbed my knapsack and climbed the stairs. I figured I should at least get settled while I waited for the other newsies to get back.

There were two doors in the small hallway at the top of the staircase. The first one led to a storage closet, so I guessed that the other at the end of the hall had to be the bunk room.

The doorknob turned, but the old wooden door got stuck for a moment. I pushed harder, leaning all my weight against the door until it suddenly opened. I stumbled in, muttering an "Oof!... ow," underneath my breath. When I looked up, I was taken off guard when I found that the room wasn't empty, as I'd thought it to be.

Dutchy looked up from the book he had been reading, peering at me strangely for a second. "Oh! Er...hi." I said, clearing my throat. He broke out into a smile, but again he didn't say anything. I guess I must have been staring at him, because he raised both eyebrows in a questioning manner. "What?" He asked.

I shook my head free of the daze and blinked a few times. "Nothin'... Would ya happen to know which one of dese bunks is free?" Despite how red my cheeks probably were at the moment, I was fairly proud of how normal-sounding my voice came out.

He pointed to the mattress above him. I gulped as my eyes wandered up to it. _I've got to sleep above Dutchy?_ I thought worriedly. I had two problems with that. _Dutchy_ and _above_. Not only did I have to share a bunk with a guy who always seemed to make me tongue-tied, but to make matters worse, I was deathly afraid of heights.

Dutchy must've seen the troubled look on my face, because he shot me a questioning glance. "We don't got any udda's right now... You'se okay?" He asked. Once again, I brought myself back to reality and nodded a lot more confidently then I felt.

As I took off my bag and reached up to put it on the bunk, I heard Dutchy laugh. I immediately started to feel uneasy again. "What?" I asked quickly. "I don't even wanna know what went on back dere..." He replied. Puzzled, I simply raised an eyebrow.

Dutchy motioned for me to come closer. When I bent down to his level, he reached up and took a sliced tomato out of my hair. "Oh..." I laughed nervously. "I thought I got it all out on da walk home..."

He smiled at me again. "Well, da washroom is right through dere if ya wanna get washed up." He offered. Then Dutchy looked back down at his book and started to read again.

I shrugged, more to myself than to him, and dug through my bag for a change of clothes. Taking them with me under my arm, I went into the washroom for a shower. I couldn't wait to get the salad out of my hair.

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Just as I finished putting on some clean clothes, I heard loud voices and footsteps approaching the washroom. I came out of the shower stall and found about a dozen newsies, still covered in food. I slipped out quietly and found Silver in the bunk room, taking off her shoes.

Even though she was soaked in just about every food from mashed potatoes to spaghetti, she was grinning broadly. "Hey, El." She greeted me. I couldn't help but laugh. "Hi, Silver... So uh, what happened?" I asked, leaning against her bunk as she struggled to take off her shoe while standing up. "Well, we all got kicked out, obviously... Thankfully dey didn't call da bulls or nuttin', but I don't think we'se allowed back in dere for a while."

Kloppman came up to the bunk room shortly after. I assumed that he had been in his office when the newsies first came upstairs, because his mouth dropped open at first glance. "Wh-what happened!? It looks like a bomb hit all a'ya!" He exclaimed.

The newsies in the bunk room started to laughed. Mush began to explain. "Well, we was at Tibby's, see?" Kloppman waved him away, indicating that he didn't even want to know. "Look... Everyone get washed up 'nd get straight to bed, ya heah me?" He told us, turning to leave.

Racetrack waited for the door to close before he quickly turned on his heel to face us. "I don't care how pissed he is! Dat was totally worth it!" He exclaimed.

Soon after everyone was showered and changed, the room quieted down. Even hours after I climbed (very carefully) up to my bunk, I couldn't sleep. For half the night, I stared at the ceiling with my eyes wide open, terrified that if I even budged an inch I'd roll off and go crashing to the floor. By the time dawn rolled around and Kloppman came back into the bunk room, I had gotten about 20 minutes of sleep.

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"El, you'se a'right? You look sorta... disgruntled." Silver commented. I took another look around at my surroundings. _And I thought the lodging house was bad..._

Teenage boys (and a few select girls) swarmed the distribution grounds, greeting each other and talking as they waited for the office to open. There must have been over fifty of them, not even counting the boys from the lodging house.

"Ella?" Silver asked, reminding me that she had asked a question. "Oh... Jus' tired." I shrugged. "Was it really necessary for me to wear dese?" I added, motioning to the black pants that Silver told me to wear. "It ain't necessary, but it'd shoah be uncomfortable sellin' all day in a dress. Besides, you'd stick out like a sore thumb..." She pointed out.

I tilted my head slightly to the side, but I wasn't really listening to her anymore. "Yeah, good point..." I muttered absentmindedly, my attention on something else now. Dutchy was by the entrance gate with a bunch of his friends. As I leaned against the brick wall behind me, I couldn't seem to take my eyes off of him. He didn't contribute much to the conversation, but he listened intently as his friends spoke. By now I had figured out that he wasn't much of a talker.

I finally realized that Silver was waving her hand in front of my face and I averted my gaze before she could see who I was staring at. "What's a'matter wit you today, El? You noivous or somethin'?" Silver took a step forward to keep up with the moving line, as the circulation window had now been opened. I moved with her and, when the line stopped, leaned up against the wall again. "Yeah, guess I am..." I said honestly.

I didn't dare tell her what else -or who else- was on my mind, though. If I knew Silver (and I knew Silver) she would try to get me to talk to him. I knew exactly what she'd say, too. "Nothin's gonna happen unless ya make it happen." Easy for Silver to say. I knew she meant well, but she just didn't understand that not everyone was as outgoing and fearless as she was.

My eyes had found their way back to Dutchy again. I wasn't even aware that Silver and I had reached the front of the line, and the conversation going on around me drifted into my subconscious,

"50 for me, please." Silver asked. "50 papes for da goil!" The man yelled over his shoulder. "Thanks." The papers made a loud noise as they were dropped on the desk. "'nd what about da udda' goil?... She okay?"

"Oh, her? Yeah, she's fine... Jus' a bit outta it today. She'll have 20." After a few seconds, I felt Silver's hand clasp around my wrist. "A'right... We'se gotta find an angle, a good place to sell. We could try Central Park, but it's gonna be loaded wit newsies dis time a day, so we won't really get business..."

Dutchy was near the middle of the line, laughing at something Specs said. I saw his blue eyes twinkle from behind his glasses as he laughed. Everything Silver said went in one ear and out the other.

"I used to sell neah Tibby's sometimes, but I doubt after last night da owners are gonna let us within two miles a'dat place... Well, it's yer foist day so I guess we can jus' take it easy." She pushed my newspapers into my hands and walked next to me, continuing on about things that weren't registering in my brain." Ya know, jus' sell up 'nd down da streets, stop wherever we see a crowd... And _what_ are you starin' at!?" Silver stopped short looked over her shoulder at Dutchy, who was about ten people away from the front of the line now.

"N-nuthin'." I stuttered, but she had already seen him. When she turned back around, Silver had a wide smirk on her face and a gleam in her eye. She raised a single eyebrow at me. "You'se sweet on Dutchy?" She asked under her breath.

My mouth dropped open and I could tell that a look of guilt was written all over my face. Still, I shook my head violently from side to side. "Yeah! You are! You'se sweet on Dutchy!" Silver said, louder this time. "Shh!" I warned her, hitting her with my papers. "Jus'... jus' keep quiet, okay!?" I begged her.

"Have you talked to him yet?! You'se gotta talk to him!" Silver turned around to get his attention, but I quickly grabbed her wrist. "Yes! Yes, I talked to him. He picked a tomato outta me hair and told me where da bathroom was, okay? It was quite nice, now let's go." I urged her, tugging on her arm.

Silver rolled her eyes and refused to budge. "Ella! Nothin's gonna happen unless ya make it happen!" Before I could stop her, she turned around and yelled his name. He looked up from his conversation and my stomach did a somersault. "Silver! Silver, cut it out, okay? Dis ain't funny. Stop. Stop it. Don't you dare call him over heah. Don't you dare..." I warned through gritted teeth. Silver, ignoring my protests, ushered him over to where we were standing.

Dutchy held up his pointer finger, indicating to Specs that he'd be back in a second. He jumped off the platform and came over, raising an eyebrow at Silver. "Hey Dutchy... Wanna sell wit Ella today? I'se gotta go to Brooklyn for da afternoon..." My eyes went wide and I shot her a look, but she just simply grinned at me.

Dutchy's eyes flickered over to me for a second before returning to Silver. "Jus' bring her wit you. I'm sellin' wit Specs today. Sorry." He didn't sound sorry as he turned around and went back over to his friend, who was saving his spot in line.

Silver merely shrugged and turned around towards the gates with me in tow. It took me a few seconds to find my voice. I didn't really expect him to say yes, but he didn't have to say it with such animosity, either. It sort of hurt, to be honest, that he sounded like he'd rather be doing anything else in the world.

"Silver... Why'd ya do dat?! Now I _know_ he hates me! I was poifectly fine wit jus' thinkin' dat maybe he did... But no, now I know for shoah!"

I heard her sigh. "Would ya relax? Dat couldn't have gone any better if I planned it meself." She replied. We were out on the street now, so we weaved between the crowds walking towards us. "Better!?" I argued. "Silver, I dunno what crazed up world you'se livin' in, but in dis world people get rejected like dat when udda' people _hate _them."

"Or get noivous around dem." She replied simply. I opened my mouth to respond, but found that I was too confused to even form words. When I didn't reply, Silver went on with her explanation. "I think he's jus' as noivous around you den you are around him." I finally shook my head. "No. No, dere's no way dat's-"

"-Just trust me." Silver assured me.

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Hmm... So is Silver right or does Dutchy dislike Ella? I'll post another chapter as soon as I can :D

Thanks for reading! And to my reviewers: (Racerchick, washedaway56, Trignifty, ktkakes, and Spaz-24601) Thanks so much for your comments. I loved hearing from all of you again!!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original characters from the Disney movie, "Newsies." The only characters in this story that I claim ownership over are Ella, Silver, and Mrs. VanWyck.

Wow. I'm really sorry about the wait. For a few days before the rally, I literally had no time for anything but planning. My best friend and I spent days sorting out how much it was going to cost and how much time it would take to get down to the city on time and blah blah blah. BUT! It was really a blast. Game did a great job planning everything, and everyone was so incredibly nice. For those of you who couldn't make it, there should be pictures on the website pretty soon, so check them out :D

Then after I got home, my mother decided that I should clean out and organize my _entire _room because we have to paint it soon. Now, I'm sure you guys can imagine how completely and utterly _thrilled _I was to do nothing other than cleaning for the past three days (That's sarcasm). So it pretty much comes down to this: I haven't had any time to write until today. So I rushed to get this out, and I don't particularly like it. But whatever I do, I can't seem to get it the way I want. Oh well. Hopefully the next chapter will come out better. Sorry, guys. Here goes.

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"Hah. You weren't kiddin' when you said it was hard woik..." I muttered, having barely enough energy to open my mouth and talk clearly. Silver shrugged, walking contently towards the lodging house. I lagged behind slightly, dragging my feet.

It was near dusk by the time we finished selling. Well, actually, Silver had gotten rid of all her papes by the time it was 3 in the afternoon, but she stuck with me until I sold all of mine. Which was around 7:30. Quite pathetic, since I had started with less than half the amount she did.

"You'll get betta'." My best friend assured me. "Foist day's one of da hardest. But you'll get da improvin' technique down soon enough..." I smiled, remembering the incident that occurred that afternoon. "Well, if some guy's gonna chase me every time he realizes dat it's not da real headline, I don't think I _wanna_ get da improvin' technique down..." I replied.

Silver laughed. "And what're you gonna do den? Woik strictly off what's in da paper? I hate to burst yer bubble, El, but da real headlines in dose newspapers could put jus' about anyone to sleep. Come to think of it, I dunno how da headline writers do it witout fallin' asleep in deir ink..." She said. I laughed halfheartedly as I climbed the steps to the lodging house and opened the door.

I walked blindly across the lobby floor, barely noticing a thing as I followed Silver. I was too tired to pay attention. Silver sat down on a chair and I collapsed into the one next to her, letting my head drop back against the backrest.

I closed my eyes and, for once, the noise in the lobby didn't seem to phase me. A long while passed, and I was nearly asleep when Silver nudged me. Barely even conscious, I shook her off and turned my head away. She nudged me harder.

"Ow! What?" I exclaimed, rubbing the spot on my upper arm where she had elbowed me. Silver immediately hunched forward towards me. "Look over dere..." She whispered. I glanced over Silver's shoulder. The couch that had been filled with newsies only about a half an hour ago was now empty. Only one of them was left.

"Go talk to him!" Silver urged. I shook my head quickly and leaned back against the chair again. "No way. He's readin'..." I pointed out, desperate for an excuse. "Exactly!" Silver exclaimed in a whisper. "Ya love to read. You can go aks him what he's readin'... It's poifect!"

"No, it ain't. What if it's just a repeat of dis mornin'?" I asked. Silver shrugged a shoulder. "Come on, El. You'se never gonna know unless ya try."

Looking for another excuse, I glanced around the lodging house. Kloppman was seated behind his desk, rubbing his temples and looking quite frustrated about some paperwork. Besides Silver, Dutchy, and myself, there were only two other newsies in the room. Snoddy and Pie Eater were sitting over by the unlit fireplace, playing a game of dice. Everyone else had gone upstairs to the bunkroom.

I sighed. I was one of those people who just accepted defeat in an argument. But Silver wasn't. I knew she'd keep going until she got me to get off my chair and start a conversation with Dutchy. "Fine..." I mumbled, pulling myself to my feet and wandering over.

Dutchy didn't seem to notice my presence until I sat down on the opposite side of the couch. He glanced up from his book for a second, but then, just as quickly, pointed his eyes downward again. I cleared my throat softly and forced myself to look over at him. "What're ya readin'?" I asked.

"Oliver Twist." Dutchy stated, holding the book up (but not tearing his gaze away from the text) so I could read the cover. I nodded slowly and looked down again, desperate for something to say.

This wasn't working. I looked over my shoulder and begged Silver with my eyes, but she just gave me a stern look and gestured for me to keep going. I sighed inwardly and turned back to the boy. "It's a good book." I managed. This time, Dutchy looked up and raised an eyebrow.

"You'se read it?" He asked. I nodded. "Few years ago. I used to go to da library all da time 'nd jus' take out books." I said. For the first time in the conversation, Dutchy brought the open book down to his lap. "I got dis at da library, too." His tone of voice was a little more receptive now.

I scooted a little closer to Dutchy. "C-can I see dat for a second?" I asked, extending my hand towards _Oliver Twist._ Dutchy nodded and handed it to me. I put my finger on the page he left off at, careful not to lose it. With my other hand I flipped towards the beginning, finding a small sheet of paper wedged between the cover and title page.

At the top of the paper, "New York City Public Library" was scribbled in neat, cursive handwriting. Below that was a list of people who had taken the book out. I dragged my pointer finger down the page and I found my name to be the fifth or sixth on the list. Tilting the book towards him so he could see, I showed it to Dutchy.

He broke out into a slight smile. When his eyes drifted up to meet mine for about a second, I couldn't help but smile back. I handed his book back and turned away before he saw me blush, but I didn't want to let the conversation drop that easily. "So ya like to read, huh?" I asked. After the words left my mouth, I inwardly scolded myself for asking such a stupid question. _Of course he likes to read...Why else would he have a book in his hand half the time I see him?_

Luckily, Dutchy shrugged and answered it just the same. "Yeah, I love it. I ain't very good at it, but I manage, ya know?" He looked back down at his book and I expected that to be the end of the conversation, but then he began talking while keeping his eyes on the words. "Actually, when I got heah I didn't know how to read. Dat was back about 5 years... But between Kloppman, Cowboy, 'nd Specs all teachin' me I finally got da hang of it."

I nodded, trying to think of something else to say to keep the conversation going. Before anything came to my mind, there was an urgent knock on the door that forced me out of my thoughts. Kloppman yelled from his desk for the person to come in, and the door opened.

A well-dressed man, roughly in his thirties, walked into the lobby and approached Kloppman's desk. He wore a black tail suit with a beige waistcoat underneath. His dark mustache matched the color of his slicked-back hair, which was slightly visible from beneath a top hat.

The room grew quiet as we all turned to stare at the man. "Mr. Kloppman, I presume?" he asked. The newsies' gazes switched over to Kloppman, waiting for his reply. His eyes grew nervous and we could just about hear him gulp. Something was wrong.

Kloppman blinked a few times and cleared his throat, finding his voice. "Um, yes." He said. Then he turned to us. "Boys, 'nd uh... goils. Go upstairs to da bunk rooms, a'right?" Even though everyone was curious as to what was going on, we all stood up and shuffled towards the staircase.

Silver caught up to me and I raised an eyebrow at her, silently asking if she knew anything. She shrugged, but didn't look too nervous. "Don't worry. Kloppman will sort everythin' out. Always does." She assured me.

As we climbed the staircase, she tapped me on the shoulder and motioned to Dutchy with her eyes, who was walking in front of us. "How'd it go?" She whispered. I shrugged a shoulder but couldn't help the smile on my face.

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A few of the newsies were sleeping when we reached the bunk room, so everyone else was fairly quiet. Snoddy and Pie eater went over to the other boys who were still awake. They began talking in hurried whispers about what had just happened downstairs. I wanted to believe what Silver told me, though. I wanted to believe that nothing was wrong, so simply ignored the worried conversations and went into the washroom to get ready for bed.

I took my time with washing my face and brushing my teeth, since I wasn't exactly looking forward to another sleepless night on my top bunk. I thought about asking Silver to switch with me, but that wouldn't be fair. Even though I knew she would switch for my sake, her bunk was below Kid Blink's. From what I understood, it had taken a lot of time to get Racetrack to agree to change his bunk with Silver so she could sleep underneath Blink. As for everyone else, I wasn't on good enough terms with them yet to ask them for a favor. I finally decided that I'd have to get used to sleeping 6 feet above the floor, no matter how terrified I was.

Things seemed to have calmed down by the time I reentered the bunk room. Silver was sitting on top of her bed with Blink next to her. She leaned her head against his chest as the two talked softly. Most of the conversations had ended, as the majority of the newsies were preparing to sleep. But the conversations that _were_ still going on were about lighter subjects now.

Dutchy was, once again, reading when I climbed up to my bunk. Like the night before, I positioned in the very center of the mattress, staring at the ceiling because I was too afraid to look down.

Soon enough, Kloppman came into the bunk room. He was bombarded with questions from the newsies who were still awake and had heard about the man downstairs. But Kloppman simply waved away the questions, telling us that it was nothing to worry about and he would take care of it. "Now get to sleep, all a'yas. Carryin' da banner, bright 'nd early." He shut off the lights and soon all the noise in the bunk room faded to nothing.

For hours I lied there with my eyes open, afraid that if I fell asleep I would roll off the mattress without realizing I was doing so. Sometime around 2:30 in the morning, too exhausted to fight it anymore, I drifted into a light sleep.

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Thanks so much for reading, and to my reviewers from last chapter: I love you guys. Thank you for your comments. They're really appreciated. I'd list all of you, but I've really got to get this chapter out.

I'll post more as soon as I can.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original characters from the Disney movie, "Newsies." Annndd that brings my mood down just about every time I've gotta write it.

I have been so unbelievably busy lately. I thought that there was nothing I had to do but a little summer reading for school and some cleaning. Wow, was I wrong. I promised my best friend I'd do some cheerleader coaching for her in the fall (I dunno why. I hate kids and I make a terrible cheerleader), but apparently they decided to start it early this year. Blah. So I've been doing that, not to mention helping my dad fix up the new house that he bought... Anyway, enough babble. Long story short, I get an idea for something I want to write while I'm out, and then when I get home (and actually have a little time to write) I can't get it down right. Yeah, I know, crappy excuse. But here's a long update :D

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_I loosened my grip, and I was done for. But my arms were starting to ache. The pain was inching its way from my hands, up my arm, to my shoulders. A breeze rushed past me, sweeping through my hair and my clothes, and a shiver went down my spine. I gulped and forced myself to glace down. _

_The sidewalk looked like it was miles below me. As I clung more tightly onto the edge of the building, the ground seemed to be moving further away from me. Then I started to slip. _

_One by one, the fingers on my right hand started to slide down, until just the very end of my fingertips were touching the ledge. Then, unable to stop it, my right hand dropped to my side. Struggling as hard as I could, I still couldn't regain my grip. _

_I looked up at my left hand, hoping to God that I could just hold on until someone, anyone, came to help me. But my knuckles were turning white from clutching on so hard. My sweat-coated fingers began to slide, as well, failing under the weight of my body. My hand slid off the ledge and I went plummeting towards the cobblestone_.

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I awoke with a jolt, and for a split second my eyes wouldn't work. The adrenalin still rushing through my body only allowed me to see bright spots. Then, when my vision finally came back, I found that I was looking down at the lodging house floor.

My arm, as well as my head, was hanging idly over the edge of the mattress. I instinctively opened my mouth to scream, but I was able to stop the noise in my throat before it escaped. I scrambled back to the center of the bed and rolled myself into a ball while lying on my side, practically in fetal position.

But still, even after my heavy breathing calmed down, I couldn't get myself to stop trembling. My whole body was shaking as the dream flashed back in my head. It seemed so vivid. I could remember every little detail about it, but I was trying not to.

"You're tremblin'." I heard a voice whisper from below me. I didn't answer right away. Was I shaking so badly that he could feel it on the bunk under me? Did I wake him up?

"Ella...? You'se a'right?" Dutchy spoke again, raising his voice a little more this time, but still not exceeding a whisper. "Yeah..." I finally managed. A short pause followed. "I can feel ya tremblin' from down heah." He stated finally.

"S-sorry. Bad dream." I whispered. "I'm fine now." I didn't sound so assuring, and Dutchy could hear the uncertainty in my voice. "Den why are ya still shakin'?" He asked. "I jus'..." My voice faded out for a second. "I jus' ain't good wit heights."

There was another short pause. "Oh... Is dat all?" Dutchy asked. I nodded even though he couldn't see me. "Why didn't ya say somethin'? C'mon, we'll switch." I heard him getting up from his bed and gathering a few things. He was standing by the bed now, pillow in hand. I lifted my head, just enough to glance over the edge, and raised an eyebrow at him. "C'mon!" He urged in a whisper. I carefully got to a seated position and dragged myself to the ladder. Then, practically holding the ladder for dear life, I put one foot under the other steadily until I reached the floor. It was only when I got the bottom that I found Dutchy standing right behind me, ready to support me if I fell.

I smiled in his direction, but couldn't look him straight in the eye. "Thanks." I murmured. I could hear in his voice that he was smiling, too. "Don't mention it." As he climbed the ladder (much more confidently than I did), I crawled into my new bed. I listened to Dutchy getting himself settled above me.

"Forgot yer pillow." He whispered. Dutchy held it over the side of his bed so it hung next to my face. "Thanks." I said again, taking it from him. I positioned it under my head and pulled the blankets up. "Night, Ella." He whispered. "G'night." I replied.

A while later, he had stopped shuffling around above me. The lodging house bunk room was dead silent again, as it was the middle of the night.

I still couldn't fall asleep, even though I was much more comfortable. The dream was fading now in my memory, and I was reassured by the thought of being closer to the ground. But I still couldn't fall asleep.

I found myself wondering if Dutchy was still awake. I wanted to say something else to him, but I couldn't think of anything to say. I decided he was probably asleep now, anyway. I sighed, closing my eyes and nestling further into my pillow.

"Ella?" He whispered. I opened my eyes and blinked into the darkness of the bunk room. "Mmhm?" I mumbled. As I waited for a reply, I started to get the feeling of butterflies in my stomach. "Ya wanna go for a walk or somethin'?" Dutchy asked.

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We agreed to change out of our night clothes and meet on the lodging house stoop once we were done. In one of the changing stalls of the washroom, I got dressed quickly and quietly, careful not to wake anyone.

Dutchy finished before me and had already gone downstairs by the time I left the washroom. I crossed the floor cautiously, using the bit of light that shone through the windows from the streets outside.

As I walked down the staircase, I noticed that Kloppman's office light was still on. The door was closed, but a yellow glow could be seen coming from the space underneath the door. I wondered why he would be awake so late at night, but the thought left my mind as quickly as it had come, and I thought nothing else of it.

Dutchy was waiting for me on the stoop, as promised. Unaware that I was behind him, he sat on the top step, facing the street with his chin in his hand. His blonde hair hung in his eyes, which were absentmindedly focused on nothing in particular. He was in deep thought over one thing or another, but turned and looked over his shoulder when he heard the door click shut behind me.

I smiled nervously at him. "Hey." I said softly. Dutchy got to his feet and shot a smile back at me, brushing off his clothes. "Hey..." He repeated. "Ready?" I nodded and followed him down the steps.

We weren't headed towards any particular destination. At least, I assumed we weren't by the slow, casual stroll that Dutchy had decided to walk at. I soon fell in step with him, but neither of us said anything. Instead, I focused on the sky as we walked, noticing how dark it was. I wasn't completely sure of the time, but it seemed like sunrise was still hours away.

I always thought that New York City streets were _always _teeming with excitement. But no... For this rare point in time, the sidewalks were completely bare of people and the streets were completely empty of carriages. The city was abandoned by everyone except for Dutchy and I.

The heat of that summer day had disappeared with the sun, and now it was slightly chilly out. I shivered and I pulled my shirt closer around me, attempting to keep in my body heat.

It was too quiet between us. We both dodged side-glances once in a while, waiting for the other to say something. But I had nothing to say. Well, actually... I had a ton to say. But I didn't want him to hear any of it.

"So... Ya like da lodgin' house?" Dutchy offered, finally breaking the silence. I nodded and shrugged at the same time. "Yeah, I like it... I'se still ain't used to it, though... I think it's gonna take me some time." I replied. Dutchy turned his gaze away from the sidewalk in front of him and looked over at me through his glasses. He ran his hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes, but the golden strands just fell effortlessly back into place. "How come?"

I shrugged again. "Guess I'm jus' not all dat great wit new people... I mean, Silver is. She always has been, but I ain't. Guess I jus' feel like I won't fit in wit people. Dat dey won't like me or somethin'..." Once the words left my mouth, I wondered why I was telling Dutchy all of this. But he didn't seem to mind listening. "I like ya...?" He offered, raising a shoulder.

I cocked an eyebrow, shooting him a strange glance. He stuttered for a second, realizing what he had just said. "Oh! I mean... I don't _like_ ya! Well, a'course I... B-but, I ain't _sweet_ on you or nuttin'-" I laughed slightly, glad for the nighttime so he couldn't see me blush. "Nah, I know what you'se sayin'... Thanks." Dutchy calmed down and regained the collective half-smile on his face. Shame. He looked real cute when he was nervous.

After that incident, I guess the two of us both inwardly decided that it was best if we didn't say much. Dutchy seemed to know the city like the back of his hand. We had been going straight for a long while, but when he started turning corners both left and right, I figured that we were on our way back to the lodging house.

The two of us walked in and out of the glow from the streetlamps. There were a couple every block or so, and since the circle of light from one didn't meet the light from another, we were in shadows half the time.

I had grown accustomed to both the silence between us and the silence in the city around us. We were walking in darkness near one particular alleyway, when a loud rattling and the crash of a garbage can falling to the ground broke the silence. Being right next to the noise, I almost jumped out of my skin. I unintentionally grabbed onto Dutchy, my hand clutching the spot where his wrist met his palm. Neither of us noticed it at that second, however, since the noise startled both of us

We stared into the alleyway and saw the dark outline of something small scurrying away. Probably a stray animal or something, looking for scraps of food in the trash. I allowed myself to breathe normally, finally letting go of the air in my lungs. Dutchy did the same. At that moment, both of us realized that I was still holding onto his arm.

He quickly looked down at me and I looked up at him. Then I let go and we turned away simultaneously, beginning to walk towards the lodging house again. This time in quick strides.

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Thanks so much for reading! Please review if you can. Love getting feedback from you guys.

Passionate Fire, Racerchick, Spinner, Pippa Kelly, MontanaSky, washedaway56, SilverRain1.3, SuNsHiNe and GiGgLeS, ImaSuperNaturalCSI, NarniaRulz (Wow, you guys have no idea how great it is to hear from all of you again!!): Thanks for the reviews! All of you are the absolute best :D


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: So I don't own the newsies. But I wish I did. Maybe Denton, too. But Medda, I could take her or leave her.

Yeah. I know. It's been almost a few weeks. The sad thing is, I don't really have a good excuse. The past few days I've been painting my room, and all my furniture is pushed together so it's a hassle to get to my computer. But that's only for the past few days... As for the past week, guess I just haven't had much desire to write. Figures, right? Soon as I'm off for summer... I guess once you've got all the time in the world to do something, you don't want to do it much anymore. Bleh. Hate that.

So I've been working on this chapter for a while now and I couldn't seem to finish it. But! Last night, powered by coffee, late-night random outburst of motivation, and a chick flick that I'd just finished watching, I finally got this out. And I think I've gotten over the speed bump, because my writer's block seems to be gone. YAY! Okay, enough babble. Chapter 6.

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It seemed like fifteen minutes after I'd fallen asleep, Kloppman was in the bunk room. Half asleep, I decided that I'd cling on to the last few seconds of rest I had left and wait for him to come over to my side of the room...But something in Kloppman's voice wasn't right. It sounded raspy and hoarse as he called for the newsies to get out of bed.

I sat up quickly, nearly hitting my head on the underside of Dutchy's bunk. As exhausted as I felt, Kloppman looked much worse. His eyes looked tired and bloodshot, like he could barely keep them open. He fought to keep his balance, having to lean on something so his legs didn't collapse from underneath him. No one seemed to pay much attention, but I did. With a combination of how he looked now and how the light in his office was on so late, I came to the conclusion that he had been up all night.

Dutchy broke my train of thought when he hopped from the bunk ladder to the floor. I shook my head free of the daze and stood up, starting to pull up the blankets on my bed. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he took his glasses off the night-table and put them on. As he wandered over in the direction of Specs, he passed Silver who was walking towards me. "Hey El." She greeted.

I yawned in response and went over to the drawer beside the bed, searching for some clean clothes to wear. "Well... You'se look tired." Silver pointed out, sitting down on my bed as I dug through the drawer. For a quick second, my eyes flickered across the room to Dutchy. "Do I?" I shrugged, avoiding the statement. As I stood up straight again, I couldn't suppress a second yawn.

"Come to think of it, so does Dutchy..." Silver added. I used the opportunity to glance at him over my shoulder once again. He was leaning against the wall, his neck craned backwards so his head rested against the beige planks behind him. Dutchy kept his eyes closed, but he gave a little nod every so often just to prove that he was listening to Specs, still somewhat conscious.

When I turned back, I was met with Silver's gaze. In addition to her single raised eyebrow, an all-knowing smirk was etched across her face. "Aw... So ya wasn't plannin' on spillin' da beans at all, huh? So I'se gotta pry it outta ya, is dat it?" She asked, still smirking.

I gaped at her for a few seconds before I finally stopped my mouth from hanging open. "I dunno what you'se talkin' about." I stated. Readjusting the bundle of clothes that was slipping out of my arms, I made my way towards the washroom.

Silver quickly bounded off the bunk and followed right behind. "Well, yer late night walk wit Blondie over dere, of course!" My face turned a bright shade of pink and I shot Silver a look that said both, _"quit talking so loud"_ and _"How'd you know?"_

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Ya forget, El. I'se a real light sleeper."

In order to escape further questioning, I disappeared into one of the changing stalls and, while I got dressed, allowed time for my face to return to its normal color. When I finished, I opened the stall door and joined Silver at the sinks, hoping that she had decided to drop the subject. No such luck.

"So I think ya should aks him to sell wit ya today..." Silver suggested, washing her hands. I immediately shook my head from side to side. "No way... Do I gotta remind ya about what happened _last time_ ya tried to get us to sell togedda?" I pointed out. I reached for my brush and started to untangle the knots in my hair. "Do I gotta remind ya 'bout last night?" Silver replied. "Oh, Ella! Let's go for a walk togedda!" She mimicked in a mocking, high-pitched voice.

My eyes went wide and I smacked her on the shoulder. "Silver! Quit it befoah someone hears ya!" I warned desperately. "Hey!" She laughed, jokingly hitting me back on the shoulder. I shot her a look of mock-anger and ran my fingers under the tap before flicking water at her.

Silver grinned and cupped her hands under the faucet, collecting the stream of water. As she threw it at me, I stumbled backwards to avoid getting doused. My back knocked into someone as I tripped over my own feet, but they caught me by the arms and pulled me back up again.

I didn't really have to look up to see who had caught me. The fact that Silver had to turn away to hide her burst of laughter told me enough.

I felt my face get hot again, so I quickly regained my footing and scrambled towards the sinks again. "T-thanks..." I stuttered. In the reflection of the mirror, I watched Dutchy shrug and continue on to where he was headed before I had bumped into him.

My hands on either side of the sink to prop myself up, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It took a few seconds for Silver to calm down. "I... I didn't mean to... Dat was a mistake, El." Silver said. I could hear in her voice that she was still grinning broadly, and when I opened my eyes I saw that her face was flushed from laughing. "Sorry..." She tried desperately hard to straighten out her smile, but went into more fits of laughter as she replayed the scene in her head.

Silver could barely stand up straight. I didn't see what was so funny, but her out-of-control laugh was just too hysterical to stay angry. I cracked a smile. "No you ain't." I replied. This made her laugh even harder, which I didn't think possible. "You're... You're right, I- I ain't!" She managed to choke out.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

Twenty minutes later, when all the newsies were ready (and Silver had finally stopped her laughing fit), Kloppman halfheartedly called us from downstairs that it was time to go. Once again, his voice wasn't as strong and spirited as it usually was. He carried a burden in his tone of voice that was obvious to all of us.

We stampeded down the staircase in a huge mob, as we always did. But Kloppman wasn't standing at the bottom like he normally was, doing a quick headcount to make sure we were all out of bed. This time, he was sitting behind his desk, looking down anxiously at a large pile of paperwork. He looked up as we passed, shooting us a feeble smile that didn't reach anywhere close to the eyes behind his spectacles.

Everyone sensed that something was wrong. But we tried our best to shake it off; convince ourselves that everyone was allowed an off day from time to time. Although, from what I could understand by the worried looks they distributed, the other newsies hadn't really ever seen Kloppman have an off day.

However, out on the street the mood seemed to lighten a bit. The bright dawn promised a beautiful summer day, warm with a slight breeze, which pushed the negative thoughts away. After all, good weather meant a good selling day. Which, in the eyes of a newsie, meant a good day all around.

The group began to fan out, walking in smaller sections towards the circulation desk. Jack and some of his good friends walked more towards the front; Racetrack, Mush, Crutchy, and Kid Blink (Who had originally started out walking with Silver, but she had told him to go catch up with his friends and she'd see him later).

More towards the middle was where some of the younger ones were walking, such as Boots and Snipeshooter. And directly in front of Silver and I, who were at the very back, were Specs, Skittery, Itey, and Dutchy.

Halfway there, I realized that Silver hadn't said one word the entire time, which was more than unusual for her. I quickly glanced over to make sure she was alright, but did a double take upon noticing that a smirk was starting to form on her already-thoughtful expression.

"Uh... Silver? What are ya up to?" I asked cautiously. "Hm?" She asked, turning her head but not dropping contact with what she had been staring at. I quickly followed her gaze to the target; Dutchy. Then I turned back to Silver. Dutchy. Silver.

"Oh no." I muttered. "Please don't, Silver? Please, I'se beggin' ya, don't do anythin'... Didn't ya a'ready torture me enough dis mornin'?" She wasn't listening to anything I was saying. Suddenly, she whipped her head around to look at me with a wide grin. "Aks him to sell wit ya." She said excitedly. I started to protest, but she ignored it. "Okay? A'right." She spoke over me.

"No! No, not a'right! Silver... Cut it out, would ya?!" I whispered frantically, but she had already turned back towards the boys and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Hey, Dutchy!" She yelled. Then she dove out of sight, into the opening of an alleyway we were passing by.

Before Dutchy had time to turn around, I sprinted in after her. But I was caught, spun around, and pushed back out again before I could hide. I stumbled back out into the street and looked up to see Dutchy staring at me, about 15 feet away, with one eyebrow raised. "Did you jus' call me?" He questioned.

"N-no..." A tiny block of wood that had broken off a crate was thrown at

me from inside the alleyway. It hit the side of my head with a minor _clunk _and I quickly corrected my answer. "_Ow!_ Uh, Yes."

With the puzzled look still on his face, Dutchy came over to where I was standing. "A'right... What is it, den?" he asked. I immediately looked down, hitting the toe of my shoe against the crack between the cobblestones. "Well, I... Hm. See..." My voice faded out as I struggled for something to say. Dutchy raised his eyebrow even higher and stared at me through the lenses of his glasses.

I could hear more movement coming from the alleyway. "Don't you dare throw another piece of wood at me..." I muttered underneath my breath, directing the whisper towards the opening. "What?" He questioned. My head snapped up. "Nuttin'! Wanna sell wit me today?" I said hurriedly. I nervously smiled at him, waiting for Dutchy to do anything but blink.

"Actually..." He stated finally. "I kinda told Specs I'd sell wit him dis mornin'... Apparently he found a new sellin' spot dat he wants me to see, and... I can't, ya know, bail on him or nuttin'."

"Oh." I mumbled, nodding slowly. I let my gaze drop down to the sidewalk again. "A'right, well... Yeah, okay. Dat's—"

"I' was thinkin' 'bout sellin' da afternoon edition later, though... I mean, if ya wanna join me wit dat, dat's fine..." He offered, shrugging a shoulder. I glanced up again, suddenly losing the ability to speak again. "Um... I-I guess? Dat sounds..."

"_Perfect!_" Came Silver's voice from the mouth of the alley. Dutchy looked up quickly and glanced from me to the alley with a suspicious expression. Finally deciding that he was hearing things when the word didn't sound like it was coming out of my mouth, he shrugged again. "A'right... How 'bout If I meet ya at Central Park... Maybe 'round... 4?" He suggested.

I nodded and shot him a small smile, but waited until he had turned around and walked away until I said anything else. Silver crawled out from her hiding place in the alleyway and happily brushed herself off as she stood.

She was still grinning broadly and I wasn't sure if I was furiously mad at her or absolutely thrilled. I waited for all the blood to come back into my face before I decided on a monotone, "I'm gonna kill you," murmured just above a whisper.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

Hmm... So Silver seems to be a bit of a pain in the ass, huh? Sounds a lot like _my _best friend. (Just kidding, Sticks, I lurve you!)

Please review if you've got any comments or criticism. I'd, as always, love to hear it.

Annndd I'm gonna try really hard to write faster. Sorry, guys. Links is ashamed.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original characters from the Disney movie, "Newsies."

Wow, guys. It's been forever since I've updated. I'm suprised I remembered how to write a disclaimer.

To be honest, I'm quite pissed with myself. I used to be really good about updating, and I was kinda proud of that. But I seriously haven't had _any _time lately. I started school a few weeks ago. I'm on a new campus now, so I'm still trying to get used to it. On top of homework, marching band, and cheerleader coaching, it's taken me just about three weeks to get one chapter written. I'm way sorry, and I promise promise promise, now that I'm getting settled in with the school year and all, that I'll try to write more often. Actually, I'm gonna start the next chapter as soon as I press the "Save Changes" button.

Anyway: (quick review of what's going on) When we last left off, Silver forced Ella to talk to Dutchy by calling his name and jumping into an alleyway. Great friend, huh? Actually... She _did_ get Ella a selling date with Dutchy. So here goes. Hope you guys like it...

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

There was a grand total of about 15 newsies in line for the afternoon edition. I got the hunch that many of them preferred the morning edition. Looking around the emptying streets as people went home from a long day at work and the street vendors packed up their merchandise, I could understand why.

I was running a bit late on account of Silver wouldn't let me leave for my "date" until she had given me multiple tips on how not to get tongue-tied. And no matter how many times I informed her that it was just selling newspapers, she refused to call it anything but a date. Besides... Although she was trying to help, I knew well enough that there was no avoiding getting tongue tied. Not around Dutchy, anyway.

A stack of 20 papers under my arm, I hurried to Central Park, hoping that he didn't already get tired of waiting and leave.

I didn't have to walk far into the park before I found him. Dutchy was lying across a bench, his long legs dangling off the edge and one of his newspapers opened, draped over his face. That way the late-afternoon sun was blocked from his eyes.

Unsure if he was asleep or not, I lightly cleared my throat. He didn't move. "Dutchy?" I whispered, taking a step closer to him. Just as I was about to tap him on the shoulder, he jolted awake and quickly sat up. The paper that was on his face slid off and floated down to the ground.

Dutchy looked confused for a moment as he squinted in the light. I choked back a small laugh at the way he glanced around, bewildered as to where he was.

Then, shaking his head free of sleep, he casually said; "Oh... Hiya, El."

And that was it. My brain was completely robbed of all the 'how not to get tongue-tied around Dutchy' tips. No one _ever_ called me El except for Silver. I didn't really like when other people did it. Silver was only allowed to because she was my best friend; sort of like how she let me call her Silvia once in a while. But for some reason, when Dutchy called me by the nickname butterflies rose up inside me instead of anger.

I unintentionally stared blankly at him, but I'm pretty sure that by now he was used to reactions like that from me. He didn't require an answer for anything that wasn't a question.

Dutchy scooted to one side of the bench, leaving the other end empty for me to sit down. I put my papes next to me and sat, my gaze ahead of me as I timidly wrung my hands in my lap.

The park was nearly empty aside from the two of us. I could see why Dutchy had decided to take a nap. "Slow day, huh?" I muttered.

He nodded. "Yep."

Silence hung heavily around us. The only noises were the wind in the trees and the rustling of grass as Dutchy tapped his feet absentmindedly. "So how--"

"Do you--"

We both stopped speaking, waiting for the other to continue. "Sorry, go ahead." Dutchy said.

"No, it's a'right. Go on." I replied. Dutchy half smiled and sort of looked away before he went on to finish his sentence

"A'right... Well, I was jus' gonna say dat it's kinda dead heah. So if ya want to, we can sell somewhere else." He suggested.

I looked over at our two stacks of papers, sitting between us on the bench. For some reason I guessed that few of them would be sold. "Where's it busy around dis time of day?"

Dutchy stood up from the bench and wandered over to the nearest tree. It was across the small dirt path and a little to the left. I watched while he started to climb up the trunk with a pensive look on his face as he considered the question.

With his feet planted firmly on the first and lowest branch, he reached for the second. I shut my eyes tightly and shuddered when one of his hands slid off the branch, but he casually replaced it and pulled himself up.

Dutchy finally sat down on a wide branch, jutting out almost horizontal to the ground. He let his feet dangle about 8 feet above the grass. "Nowhere, really," He concluded. "Da afternoon edition's a tough one to sell because jus' about everyone is in for dinner."

I wondered why he invited me in the first place if he didn't plan on getting much selling done, but nevertheless I was glad he did.

Leaving the papes where they were, I stood and walked over to the base of the tree. I swallowed nervously upon realizing how high up he was now that I was closer. "Uh... Dutchy?" I asked.

"Hm?"

"Ya think ya could, you know, come down? It's kinda makin' me noivous havin' to look up at ya..."

He laughed. "So come up, den."

I questioningly raised an eyebrow. "What's dat gonna solve? Den we'll _both_ be up in da tree..."

"Exactly." He stated. "But ya won't gotta look up at me anymore."

I cracked a smile, but it straightened out again upon realizing that Dutchy really did mean for me to join him. "I can't... I'm afraid of heights, member?" I reminded him.

"Shaoh ya can. It's not very high. I ain't gonna let ya fall..." He assured me. Dutchy repositioned himself in the heart of the tree where all the branches met. Leaning over, with his hand clutched around a branch for support, he extended his other hand towards me.

"C'mon. Don't ya trust me?" He asked.

"A'coarse I do... But it ain't trustin' you dat I'se worried about. It's trustin' every one of dose branches that could easily snap and leave me on da floor wit a broken arm..." My nerves were forcing me to wring my hands again.

"Dey won't break. Look," Dutchy said, standing up. He found his balance and began to bounce, causing all the leaves in the tree to rustle and swish.

"Okay, a'right!" I exclaimed. His good-natured laugh sort of calmed me, but I couldn't explain why. Dutchy crouched down and extended his hand towards me again. He raised his eyebrows and smiled, waiting for me to accept the offer.

I took a deep breath while I warily put my hand in his. His smile widened.

"Okay. Now put yer foot dere," Dutchy instructed, pointing to an indent in the tree's bark. I did as I was told, clutching onto his hand for balance.

"Ready? On da count of three... One, two, three." He pulled on my arm and I pushed up from the ground with the bottom of my foot.

If I thought the tree looked high up from the ground, it was nothing compared to what the ground looked like from the tree. I started to feel dizzy and my heart rate sped up right away.

"Hey, calm down..." He said soothingly. "I told ya, I ain't gonna let you fall." Dutchy squeezed my hand to assure me that he was there. I tore my gaze away from the seemingly-huge drop and looked instead at Dutchy. He smiled again, but let go of my hand.

"Jus' find a sturdy branch and sit down wit yer back against it. You'll feel less jumpy."

I did as he said. Then I watched him sit down across from me. He was right; I did feel safer. There was a spot in the heart of the tree that looked almost hollowed out. The branches curved and twisted around it to form something like a nest.

I slumped down further so all I could see were the branches and the skyline in the distance. It was almost like being on the ground, but the thought that I wasn't still made me fidgety. Dutchy could sense that, so he changed the subject.

The two of us talked for god knows how long, skipping from topic to topic. We talked until the sun disappeared. When the guise of darkness started to creep over the park, we decided it was time to head back to the lodging house.

As I stood up from my spot in the tree, it dawned on me that getting down would be much more difficult than it had been to get up. I couldn't see the ground below me through the darkness...

The dizziness came back and I had to lean against the tree and shut my eyes. I could feel my body slipping against the rough bark. I started to fall through an opening in the branches.

I snapped back into reality when Dutchy grabbed my wrist and quickly pulled me back up. The sudden force made me stagger forward, instead of backwards, into Dutchy's chest. His arms wrapped around me to help support my body until I could regain balance.

Still, even after I was able to stand up perfectly straight on my own, his hands didn't leave the small of my back. I forced myself to look up at him and found that he was staring at me with a curious, sort of pensive look on his face. Before I could ask why, he had closed the distance between our mouths and brushed his lips against mine.

The kiss was extremely soft and lasted only a few seconds, but it was perfect. Everything was perfect until he pulled away. The air that had been between us before the kiss was now filled with awkwardness. It was as if the last few hours that I had spent growing comfortable in Dutchy's presence just never happened.

We were back to dodging glances and saying nothing, exactly the way we were when we first met.

Dutchy cleared his throat, which should had helped disperse the unease but it only added to it. He jumped down from the tree.

My mind was swarming with so many thoughts that I barely worried about the distance from the ground as I lowered myself to a seated position, letting my legs dangle next to the trunk. Dutchy took my hand to help me down and I slid off the tree. I heard the _thump_ of my feet on the ground.

This time, Dutchy didn't squeeze my hand for assurance. He dropped it as quickly as he had taken it. He started for the lodging house while I absentmindedly followed after him. Neither of us bothered to remember our pile of unsold papers, sitting on the bench.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

Thanks for reading!

Yeah, I know I don't really deserve it after three, maybe four, weeks of non-posting... But I'd love to hear what you guys think of this chapter. I was a bit unsure about it, but I needed to get something out.

I'll post again as soon as I get a chance.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original characters from the Disney movie, "Newsies."

So it took a little longer than I'd expected. And it's sorta short. But it's here. I finally figured out that writing a little bit, if only a few paragraphs, a night works a lot better than attempting to set aside one entire night to finish it in one shot. So I'll be doing that from now on. To everyone who reviewed last chapter: thanks so much. My goal was to send out messages to all of you guys, but if I missed one of you please let me know :). And here goes:

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

We expected to open the lodging house door to the newsies' regular nightly activities; cards and craps games, maybe Racetrack cracking jokes to anyone who would listen. But everything was reversed that night.

Everyone was packed into the lobby, but no one said a word above a whisper.

Jack paced in front of Kloppman's empty desk in deep thought, pausing every so often and resting his elbow on the edge. Racetrack was quiet for once, lying on his back next to the unlit fireplace. Kid Blink had his arm around Silver and her head was tipped onto his shoulder, but the vacant look on their faces showed that they were miles away. Boots and Snipeshooter were whispering frantically in a corner of the room, discussing something serious.

When they heard the door open, the newsies all looked up at me and Dutchy. Upon finding out that it wasn't whoever they had been waiting for, they mumbled and went back to their thoughts.

I quickly went over to Silver and kneeled by the couch where she was sitting. "What's goin' on?" I whispered. She paused a second before answering. "We don't know..." She said. Her expression was still blank.

"But somethin's definitely wrong," Blink added. "Wit Kloppman. He told all of us ta stay put 'til he got back. Says he might got somethin' to tell us 'nd he didn't look too happy 'bout it..."

My mind immediately started swarming with panic. _He's been acting so__distant lately, and Kloppman wouldn't worry us over nothing..._ I decided. _What if it really is something terrible?_

I absentmindedly slid down so I was sitting against the couch at Silver's feet. Eventually, everyone exhausted all the possibilities and ideas, so the whispering just stopped. We waited at least another hour in silence. The littler ones were getting tired but they refused to go up to bed.

Finally, the door opened and all of our heads snapped up. Kloppman came in, heading straight for his desk. He didn't seem to notice the heavy silence in the room, or that about 20 pairs of eyes were focused on him alone. Kloppman looked more exhausted than ever, both physically and mentally.

He dropped a stack of papers and documents on his desk with a loud noise and began to flip through them. Kloppman kept his head in his hand as his eyes scanned over each page.

By the time he reached the end, every bit of hope had disappeared from his face. He sighed heavily, shutting his eyes for a moment before he spoke.

"I'se sorry, kids..."

All of us stopped breathing. We had heard the panic and regret in Kloppman's voice. Now it was confirmed that something was terribly wrong. As much as we wanted to know _what,_ none of us dared to open our mouths.

Kloppman sighed again, his head propped up with the hand on his forehead.

"Da owner of dis buildin'," he finally explained, "Mr. Bartlett, I owe him some money. I'se been a little short lately on da pay, 'nd da debts have been addin' up ova da past couple a'months..." Kloppman's voice faded out.

The newsies had seen Mr. Bartlett, but at the time we didn't realize just who he was. He had come into the lodging house a few days before and wanted to have a talk with Kloppman. He sent us up to the bunkroom previous to the conversation.

"How much?" Specs whispered the question, but it seemed shrill in the silent lobby.

"'bout 120 dollars." Kloppman told us.

A few of the newsies' mouths involuntarily fell open. It was an incredibly large sum of money. Most of us carrying no more than two dollars in our pockets at a time, we'd never _dreamed _of having one hundred and twenty dollars. How was Kloppman, a man who probably wasn't any younger than 70 years old, whose only job was taking care of the lodging house, supposed to get that much money?

Snipeshooter was the first to ask what was going through every single one of our minds. "What happens if ya can't?" he muttered timidly.

"Well, I'se got 'bout four months to get da money to him. If not..." Kloppman paused. He didn't want to say it as much as we didn't want to hear it, but it had to be said. "Dis place gets closed down, 'nd I guess da lot of you'll have to be situated in anudda part of da city."

More questions began to taunt me. Where would we go? There wasn't a lodging house in all of New York City that had 20 some odd free bunks.

We wouldn't be the Manhattan Newsies anymore. Instead, we'd all be split up and have to move to lodging houses in different boroughs; and that was only the lucky few that they had room for. Everyone else would go back to sleeping on the streets.

Kloppman didn't know the answers to any of these problems. Although I didn't know why until now, I had seen him searching through piles and piles of paperwork over the past couple of days, looking for a loophole. He couldn't find one.

He told us to go up to the bunkroom, saying the same thing he always did: "A'right. Let's go, up to bed. Sellin' papes, bright n'early in da mornin'." This time, Kloppman's voice sounded weighed down instead of cheerful.

As we trudged up the stairs, he mumbled another, "I'se sorry, kids," from behind his desk.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

I stared into the darkness, eyes wide open, for about thirty minutes. I was almost positive everyone else was doing the same. It seemed that none of us would be getting much sleep that night.

The room was suddenly filled with light. My eyes burned for a few seconds and, even though they weren't woken up, the other newsies rolled away from the brightness and mumbled things like, "Hey, what gives?!" and "Kill da light!"

Jack was standing next to the light switch. He ignored the protests, seemingly in deep thought.

"We'se gotta do somethin' bout dis, guys..." he muttered.

Mush sat up and looked down at him from his top bunk. "Dere ain't nuttin' we can do, Cowboy. Kloppman doesn't have da money 'nd neither do we. Shut off da light 'nd try to get some sleep, would ya?"

The guys muttered in agreement, but Jack wasn't convinced. The spark was starting to come back to his eyes. He pushed himself away from the wall with his elbows and stood up straight. "Aw, c'mon, fellas! We can get da money, I know we can..." he assured us.

"Member da strike? We beat one a da most powerful men in New Yawk City... Who says we can't save dis lodgin' house?"

"I do. Jack, dis ain't nuttin' like da strike..." Racetrack cut in. "Foist off, we don't got half of da city behind us like last time."

"It doesn't matter—"

"—It does, Jack. It's ova a _hundred bucks_. Dere's no way we can do it by ourselves, and no one's gonna help us," Racetrack concluded.

By now, everyone was sitting up in their bunks, listening intently to the conversation.

"I dunno, Race... Maybe Cowboy's right. I mean, da strike seemed pointless at foist, too, but it ended up woikin'." Skittery said.

Jack was half-smiling now. "Exactly!" he exclaimed. "We'se got four months... Say we all try real hard, save up all da money we can... Maybe we can save dis place! It's worth a shot, ain't it?"

There was a pause of silence before Blink shrugged. "Shaoh, I guess."

"Yeah... Guess we gotta. Where we supposed to go if we don't?" Bumlets pointed out.

"Whadda ya say, Race? Ya gonna help out?" Crutchy asked, turning to Racetrack who was now puffing at his cigar. He blew the smoke out of his mouth and watched it swirl up in wisps toward the ceiling.

"Ah, what da hell. Shoah."

With all of the Manhattan newsies in on the plan, we discussed it until about three o'clock that morning. For four months, we'd work like crazy to get the money, and every bit of it that wasn't keeping us alive would go to keeping the lodging house. I slept better knowing that we weren't giving up without a fight.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

WWWWEEEEEEEEEE! Now _those _are the determined Newsies we all know and love! But will their efforts be enough?!. :O

Hope so. 'Cause if not, there's gonna be a lot of homeless cuties on the streets of Manhattan. Unless... We, the hopeless fangirls, are willing to take them in?? I'm sure we'll find some takers.

Thanks for reading! And I'd love to hear what you've gotta say, so please review!. :D


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original characters from the Disney movie, "Newsies." However, maybe I'll own them soon if I simply pick them up off the New York City streets once they lose the lodging house. Kidding! I'm kidding! Jeez, don't sue me...

Eh, roughly a week since I last posted. Not too bad. Still not back to my original habits of nearly every two days, but it's better then posting every month or so.

So when we last left off, poor Ella and her newsie friends were discussing how they refuse to give up the lodging house without at least _trying_ to get the money to pay back the debts. Chapter 9. Here goes.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

The chill in the air hit me as soon as I opened the door. Summer had been slipping away for the past few weeks. The early mornings had been getting colder, but now the afternoons were losing their warmth, too.

I noticed the pile of browning leaves that had gathered at the bottom step, blown over from Central Park. I inhaled, taking in the smell of burning wood from nearby apartments. It seemed that this was the only time of year when the New York City air seemed fresh.

That, I thought, was yet another way Silver and I were different. Her favorite season was spring, while mine was autumn. She loved the budding trees and the afternoon thunderstorms and I loved the crunching of leaves and the crisp bursts of wind.

It was too early for the streets to get crowded yet. I walked down the sidewalk at a brisk speed, taking notice that I was able to hear the creak of a carriage going by. In about an hour the buzz of voices on the street would be covering everything else.

I almost felt guilty about enjoying the fall morning. While the weather was turning colder, we were getting closer and closer to our deadline. I shivered a bit, more from the thought than from the air, and looked down at the ground as I walked faster.

"Well, if it ain't lil' miss Ella."

I glanced up towards the boy. He was leaning against the metal posts on the gate in front of the Manhattan orphanage. "Jay!" I exclaimed.

Laughing, he unfolded his arms and pulled me in for a hug before leaning back on the fence again. "How ya been?" Jay asked eagerly. I shrugged a shoulder.

"A'right, I guess. On me way to work." Another carriage squeaked by, reminding me of how early it was. "Hey, what're you doin' out heah dis time of mornin'?" I questioned. The kids in the orphanage didn't have to wake up until around 8, and that was only if you wanted to be fed breakfast that morning.

"One of da little ones...Charlie, ya remember him?" I nodded. Jayson took a puff on his cigarette before he continued. "Yeah, well... He had a bad dream. Woke a few of us up, so's I jus' came out heah to have a smoke instead of tryin' to go back to sleep," he explained. "Ya know me... when I'm up, I'm up."

Jay and I talked for a little while longer, briefly telling each other what we'd been doing for the past few months. I didn't go into detail about the lodging house.

"I better get goin' before I'm late..." I muttered.

Jayson dropped his cigarette and ground it into the walkway with the toe of his shoe. "Yeah, or befoah VanWyck comes out 'nd start's askin' ya 'bout da whereabouts of Silver," he added. "And dat won't go so well, on account of everyone knows ya can't lie for beans."

I raised an eyebrow. "Who ever said I know where Silver is?" I asked.

Jayson looked confused for a minute, searching my face with narrowed eyes. Then a smile spread across his face. "Ah, c'mon, Ella. You're her best friend." I broke through my serious expression to smile, too. "And I told ya. You can't lie for beans."

He gave me another quick hug. "Tell her I said hi, a'right? And dat we miss her antics 'round heah." I nodded.

"A'right, I will."

"She ain't da only one we miss 'round heah, by da way." Jay added, nodding in my direction. He turned on his heel to go back inside.

I watched him close the door behind him. Then my eyes wandered up to search the rest of the building; my former home of six years. I thought of all the kids that I grew up with there and how I took it for granted that it would always be like that. I missed them, too.

Finally shaking my head free of the thoughts, I continued on my way, doubling my speed to make up for the lost time.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

I hurriedly pushed open the door and the bell sounded in the quiet restaurant. "Ella! You're late!" Frank exclaimed, looking up from menus he was gathering into a pile.

"I know, I know... I'm sorry!" I said ruefully, bustling past him.

Frank was a waiter and a cook at the restaurant. He had to be around thirty years old, and although he wasn't the owner, he was the one who kept everything running smoothly. Frank often came down hard on me about things that weren't getting done, but I knew that he only did it because he was looking out for me.

He sighed and shook his head. "Well, hurry up then, girl, go get yer apron on," Frank reminded me. I nodded, rushing towards the door in the back of the room.

This room, no more than 8 feet in both directions, served as a storage room, a closet, and just about anything else we needed it for. Boxes of flour, spices, cans and silverware lined the left wall. Hooks and drawers lined the other.

I began sorting through the articles on the hooks, searching for my white apron.

"Ya know what time it is, Ella?"

I whirled around, finding Loretta sitting on one of the boxes. She had a pile of dishrags on her lap, and another pile of folded ones beside her. The cooks would need them for the day.

Besides me, Loretta was the only other female working there. As far as I knew, something similar to what happened to David Jacobs' family happened to her. Her husband was injured at the factory and they refused to take him back in that condition. Until he could find work elsewhere, (and since they didn't have any kids that could help support the family), Loretta was forced to work full time at the restaurant.

"Lor, ya scared me..." I laughed. She smiled but didn't look up from her work. I turned back around and continued looking. "I'se guessin' it's after 7, 'cause Frank already gave me da whole, "yer late" thing."

Loretta chuckled. "You'se jus' lucky da boss ain't here yet," she pointed out.

I nodded. "Hey, have you'se seen my—... apron." As I turned around to ask the question, Lor tossed it at me so it hit me in the face. "Thanks..." I muttered, tying it around my waist in a loose bow as I left the storage room.

The main room was still empty except for the employees. Frank was washing down a table with a wet rag. "Anything I can do, Frank?" I asked.

"Think we're okay for now. But we're a bit short on staff today, so you're going to have to cover more tables than usual," he told me. I nodded and leaned against the counter where the cash register was.

As far as I was concerned, it was crazy to come in so early. Customers didn't start coming until at least nine o'clock, but the boss, Mr. Lawson, had us get there early to take care of one thing or another that needed to be done.

I had been working at Tibby's for about two weeks. All the newsies were doing everything they could to earn money, but it didn't seem like enough, so they started to do any other odd jobs that they could manage. I got a job waitressing four days a week for $1.75 a day; sometimes a few cents extra when tips were left for me. When I wasn't at the restaurant, I was selling papers.

A few of the other newsies (like Skittery, for example) tried to get hired at Tibby's, too. But Mr. Lawson recognized them from the food fight right off the bat, and told them he "didn't need his customers covered in coleslaw and mashed potatoes." I, however, lucked out. He had no idea I was involved. But then again, hiding under a table and crawling out the door at the most opportune moment doesn't really count as being involved.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

"Ella..."

The sudsy water reached almost up to my elbows, dampening the sleeves of my blouse. Between the sound of the faucet and the pots and pans clattering around the kitchen, I could barely hear myself think.

"Ella!"

Deciding I was hearing my name being called after all, I shut off the water and turned around.

Loretta was holding the kitchen door open with her shoulder, impatiently waving me over. I wiped my hands on my apron and squeezed past the cooks who were bustling around the cramped work area.

"Sorry, Lor. Couldn't hear ya..."

She waved away my apology, as if to say _never mind it. _"I need ya to cover a few tables for me," Loretta said, ushering me out of the kitchen. The heavy door swung back and forth behind me until it slowed to a stand still.

As we walked towards the main room, I retied the bow of my apron and tried to roll up my wet sleeves, getting them out of the way. "Which tables?" I asked.

"Number eight."

"Just table eight?" I said, raising an eyebrow. Loretta usually asked me to help with some tables if she was falling behind by several, but I was pretty sure she could manage just one.

I looked up at my assigned table and laughed when I saw my friends. Silver, Kid Blink, David, Les, Cowboy, Mush, and Racetrack were crammed into one booth, chairs pulled over from other tables so they could all fit. "Thanks, Lor." She smiled and disappeared back into the kitchen to take over washing dishes.

I approached the table. Their cheeks were all a light shade of pink because of the cool air and the wind. I could tell in their eyes that they were tired and stressed. They had all been working extremely hard, knowing perfectly well that their efforts could be fruitless and we'd lose the lodging house anyway. But one thing about the newsies; they didn't let anything get them down. They chatted excitedly with each other, happy to have a break from the cold and the bad headlines, trying to convince themselves that nothing was wrong.

"Ready to order?" I asked.

"El!" Silver exclaimed. The rest looked up and greeted me warmly.

"Aw, look at her in her lil' apron!" Race teased.

Silver shot him a mock glare. "Leave 'er alone, would ya?!"

"We'se been tryin' to catch ya heah for days, but every time we come yer in da kitchen..." Blink explained.

"Yeah..." Jack continued. "But we finally came up wit da brilliant idea of _askin'_ for ya." The rest of them laughed.

I cracked a smile and pulled out my notepad and pen from the front pocket of my apron. "What can I get all a'ya?"

"I dunno, fellas... What's good to use in a food fight?" Race joked.

"Hah! Don't even mess around with that, Racetrack! It's only been about two months... I'm _amazed_ they let us back in here so soon." David stated.

"Always so negative..." Jack whispered under his breath, shaking his head.

David heard the comment and shot him a fierce glare.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

I realized I sorta bash David a bit... Sorry, David fans. It's just that he _does_ seem kind of negative all the time. You know, with the "We can't strike, we don't have a union." and the "I'm not running any further." and the "We're just a bunch of angry kids with no money." and whatnot. It's not that I have anything against him personally... Just his sister.

Thanks so much for reading, guys. I sent all the reviewers a private message last chapter (At least I _hope_ I sent it to all of them...) and if I missed you please let me know :)

I'd love to hear what you think, so please send a review if you get the chance!

Thanks to my beta reader Tetris and my good friend Dotz, I'm already halfway through writing the next chapter. It should be out pretty soon.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: So you guys know how this goes. I don't own Newsies. I wish I did, you wish you did, etc etc. Don't sue me.

AH HAH! One day short of a week since my last post. I'm getting better. :D I've gotten into the habit (once again) of writing every single day after school, so I'm getting way ahead of the game again. I like doing it like this. This way, I always have something to post.

To everyone who reviewed last chapter: Thanks so much. They were all really sweet. I hope you guys all got the private messages I sent. If not, by all means, yell at me.

Annnndd on with our poor (yet terribly lovable) New Yorker boys.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

From the early fall months on, time seemed to fly by. Routine took over and it no longer mattered what day it was. I got up before dawn every day and got ready the same way. All that mattered was remembering _how_ I was earning money that day. Three days a week I'd walk out of the lodging house and turn left towards the circulation desk, and the other four I'd turn right towards Tibby's Restaurant.

Soon enough, the colored leaves had all blown away and the trees were bare. I walked to work in the freezing mornings, hugging my jacket closely around me.

Work went routinely as well. I'd come in, grab my apron out of the storage room, and help prepare for the day before I had to wait on customers. The only difference lately was that Tibby's was becoming more and more crowded. People were stopping in to escape the cold, if only for a coffee or a hot chocolate.

Dinner was our busiest time. It seemed that everyone in Manhattan came into Tibby's around the same time: four or five in the evening. When this time of the day rolled around, all the workers had to stop the cleaning and the dishes to go wait on customers. The only people that didn't leave their posts were the cooks.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

"Ella, cover tables nine and twelve, please," Frank said, rushing by. He was juggling three plates in his hands, trying to weave past the horde of people towards the table he was waiting on. Another waiter turned around suddenly, heading for the kitchen, and had Frank not raised his arms above the waiter's head as quickly as he did, all three plates would have ended up on the floor.

The next few hours were a complete nightmare.

At table nine, there was a little girl who wouldn't settle for anything but strawberry ice-cream. I searched through the ice-box for the non-existent flavor until my hands went numb. Still, the girl threw a hissy fit when I came out of the kitchen empty handed and told her there was only chocolate and vanilla.

At table twelve, an older man ordered a plate of pasta. When I brought it out to him, he insisted that he told me penne; not spaghetti. I checked my notepad and was sure that he said no such thing, but the old man argued that I just wasn't _listening_ correctly. Before he left the restaurant, he told Frank that I should be fired for lack of good service.

Around 6:30, the restaurant was finally clearing out. The waiters went back to what they were doing before the horde of people came in and I stuck around to clear off the tables.

I stacked the last few dirty plates, positioning the half full glasses on top. Then, having almost upset the stack about 4 times on the way over, I finally made it to the other side of the restaurant without causing anything to go crashing to the floor. I still wasn't too good at the whole balancing thing.

I put the pile on the counter next to the kitchen door before I had to wash them.

Exhausted, I placed my hands on the counter behind me for support and shut my eyes, attempting to get rid of the huge headache I had. My feet ached from standing up all day and my eyes burned from lack of sleep. The realism of this whole mess we were in was starting to creep over us stronger than ever, leaving a burden over the newsies' shoulders.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, looking around to see what else had to be done. There were a few people scattered around the room, but for the most part it was empty.

Upon second glance, I realized that Dutchy was one of the few people in the restaurant. He sat alone at a small two-person table, reading something with his head in his hand. At first I thought that it was the menu, but then I realized that the menu was pushed off to the side and a book was in front of him. In deep concentration, his mouth silently moved along to the words he was reading.

Without realizing it, my heart was picking up speed. The two of us hadn't talked since the night we kissed in Central Park; since the night we found out that Kloppman couldn't pay for the lodging house any longer.

I never brought up what happened, not even with Silver. But she knew something was going on. She could read me like a book. No pun intended.

Just watching him from across the room was starting to give me butterflies. It seemed that every time I glanced at Dutchy in the lodging house, he caught me. I hadn't had the opportunity to look at him properly in the last four months, but now he didn't realize I was there. I stared at him, taking in every feature. He really was very cute, I decided.

It was a few seconds before I realized that Loretta was standing next to me, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. She glanced from me to him, trying to figure out what was going on in my brain. Maybe it was the thoughtful stare I was giving him or the fact that my cheeks were bright red, but it clicked.

"Ella... I need you to take care of table three for me." Lor said, walking past me towards the kitchen.

"W-what?" I stuttered. "No, no... I ca- Why can't you do it?" I asked, much too quickly.

Loretta's eyes shifted away from me, looking for an excuse. "I've gotta wash dese dishes," she decided, picking up the stack on the counter.

"But that's my—" I started to protest, but Lor had slipped through the swinging door and left me staring at it, swaying on its hinges.

"job." I sighed and turned to face Dutchy, who was still oblivious to what was going on, nose buried in his book. Before my mind could stop me, I forced my legs to carry me across the room.

A squeaky, barely audible, "Can I take your order?" escaped my throat. If the restaurant hadn't been so empty, Dutchy wouldn't have heard me. But he looked up and his blue eyes met mine. I gulped.

Dutchy stared for a second longer before he blinked and tore his gaze away. He looked back down at the pages of his book. "I'll uhh, jus' have hot chocolate. Thanks," He mumbled.

I scrabbled around for the notepad and pen in the pocket of my white apron. When I finally got it out, I opened to a clean page so I could write Dutchy's order. My nerves caused me to fumble with the pen and drop it on the floor.

At the same second I bent down to pick it up, Dutchy leaned over in his chair to do the same. Our heads collided with a solid _thump_and we both pulled away quickly, rubbing our foreheads. "Sorry..." I muttered.

"No, my fault," Dutchy replied. Looking down again at his book to avoid my eyes, he placed the pen on the edge of the table. I put it back in my apron pocket and turned to walk away, heading for the kitchen so I could drop off his order.

"Ella?"

I stopped and faced him again. "Yeah?"

Dutchy's mouth opened and closed as if he was reading the words in his book to himself, but this time he was thinking of how to construct words of his own. He couldn't seem to get them to form in his voice, though. Dutchy locked gazes with me. The rest of his face was neutral, but his eyes were filled with desperation, trying to tell me something. I narrowed my own in confusion.

He sighed, looking away. "Can I change me order to coffee instead?" Dutchy mumbled. I nodded slowly, turning back towards the kitchen again. On my way through the swinging door, I changed his order on the notepad, careful not to drop my pen this time.

Loretta was standing next to the sink, half the dishes in one clean pile and the other half soaking in the water. She looked over her shoulder after hearing me come in. "Well, how'd it go?" she asked.

I shrugged, going over to lean against the countertop. Lost in thought, I distractedly crossed out the word, "hot chocolate" on the paper many more times that I had to.

Finally, I sighed and stood up straight, tearing his order out of the book and putting it down. "He wants coffee," I said.

That wasn't the answer Lor was looking for. She shook her head and went back to scrubbing the dishes.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

I scoured the countertop with a wet rag, trying to scrub off the stains that had spilled over from pots during the day. _Spilled over from pots._ That reminded me. I still had to clean the stove.

As I made my way over, I slipped on the wet floor that had been mopped about 15 minutes earlier. I lost my balance and my legs slid out from under me, but I was able to hold myself up using a cabinet handle and the top of the icebox.

I was washing down the burners when Loretta came in. She pushed the door open with her shoulder, carrying a basin filled with silverware wrapped in napkins; The ones that were set out on tables but weren't used.

"Ella! You'se still here?!" she exclaimed.

I nodded, smiling wearily and turning back to the stove.

"Lemme do that," Lor insisted, putting down the basin and starting to make her way across the kitchen. "You get outta heah; You've been heah all day."

"No, don't worry 'bout it. Thanks, Lor, but I'm almost done."

Loretta raised an eyebrow. "You're shoah?"

I nodded reassuringly. "Yeah. I'm jus' gonna finish dis up 'nd den I'll leave."

"A'right..." she mumbled, picking up the container of silverware and putting it in it's rightful spot in the cabinet underneath the sink. "If you'se shoah..."

Lor stood up straight again and untied her apron, slinging it over her arm instead. "I'll see ya tomorrow, Lor." She nodded and waved before leaving the kitchen. The swinging door quit moving and I was left alone again.

I was nearly done with the stove when the sound of someone knocking on glass made me jump. It took me a second to figure out where it was coming from. There was a small rectangular window, positioned up on the wall high near the ceiling. It was the only window in the kitchen.

Silver was looking through it, mouthing the words, _"open the window."_

I had to kneel on the countertop in order to reach it. I unlocked it and pushed outward, but it wouldn't budge. The window seemed like it hadn't been opened in years. Finally, it gave way and opened, nearly smacking Silver in the face. Fortunately, she was able to duck before it happened.

"Woah, watch it!" she yelled.

"Sorry!" I laughed. "What're ya doin' heah, Silver?"

Silver's face was scarlet from the cold. I assumed that she had just finished selling the afternoon edition. All the newsies were selling both the morning and the afternoon now in order to collect more money for the lodging house.

"Well, I _tried_to go in through da front, but dat guy Frank said you was in da kitchen 'nd I wasn't allowed back dere. So a goil's gotta result to talkin' to her best friend through a two-foot window."

I extended my neck as far as I could, trying to see past Silver out of the window, but I couldn't. "Yeah, speakin' of which... What're you standin' on?" I asked.

"Bunch of crates," she replied. "Dey don't seem so sturdy, either." Silver grinned and began bouncing up and down slightly. The creaking noise of the wood told me that the crates might be giving way much faster than the window did.

"Oh god, Silver..." I muttered.

She laughed. "So when do ya finish?"

I looked down at the stove, determining what else I had to do. Clean the last burner and rinse out the rags. "Bout five minutes..." I told her.

"A'right. I'll wait out front for ya," she told me.

"You don't gotta, Silver. You look like you'se freezin'."

She shrugged. "Five minutes ain't gonna make much of a difference."

After closing the window and locking it, I got down off the counter and hurried to finish the stove. Once the rags were rinsed out and hung over the side of the sink so they could dry, I put my apron on a hook in the storage room and left. Silver was out front like she said she'd be.

The sun had been down for a few hours now and it was bitterly cold. Much colder than it should have been this far from winter, but the temperature had been dropping steadily for days. My fingers were numb in a matter of minutes and the cold air seemed to freeze in my throat while I breathed. Silver and I walked quickly to keep as warm as we could, hands in our pockets.

"So El... Ya didn't mention anythin' bout what today is. Someone mighta thought you forgot or somethin'." Silver shot me a half smile.

I raised an eyebrow. "What 'bout today? It's Tuesday, ain't it?"

Silver stared at me for a second, searching my face to see if I was messing with her. "You're serious, ain't ya?" She laughed. "Happy birthday, ya moron."

My mouth fell open. "No way... It's not..." I silently counted the days in my head. _Last Tuesday was October 30__th__, so..._ "Wow. Yer right. November 6th."

"Can't believe ya forgot..." Silver mused.

I shrugged. "Yeah... Me neither. But we'se all been woikin' so hard lately, it's so easy to forget stuff."

Silver nodded. Then her face immediately fell. "Yeah. Uh... Speakin' of workin' hard... Today ain't jus' yer birthday." Her eyes changed drastically, going from happy to nervous.

She glanced at my confused expression out of the corner of her eye. "We'se countin' da money tonight... Bartlett wants it by midnight, 'nd, well... Tomorrow, if it ain't enough..." Silver's voice trailed off.

Neither of us wanted to say it, but we were both thinking it. _Tomorrow, if it isn't enough, we'll all be kicked out of the lodging house._

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

So there was the Dutchy a few of you asked for. And to finish it all off, a negative thought from Ella. Tisk, tisk, Ella.

I've got the next chapter written. However, I'm going to make some changes to it. I was planning on doing that tomorrow, but I've got some all-day-after-school thing for marching band. Blah. Being a band geek is hard work. So I'll have the next chapter posted in a couple days.

Thanks for reading :)


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, the newsies are not mine. Ella and Jayson are, though?? ...Yeah, you're right... Still not the same. ::sigh::

WOO! Five days since I last posted. I'm working my way down, guys. Maybe soon I'll be back at updating every two or three days. Hopefully. So here goes: Long chapter with a lot of stuff happening.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

Instead of the Newsies being in the lobby like they usually were after selling, it was empty. Silver and I climbed the stairs and opened the door to find our friends sitting on the floor or lying on their bunks. It was exactly like the night we found out about this whole thing, right before we figured out what was wrong. No one said a word.

Even Kloppman was there, leaning stiffly against the wall. He acknowledged us with a small nod.

The metal box with all our savings was lying on the foot of Specs' bed, which was one of the bunks towards the middle of the room. Specs sat as far away from it as he could without falling off his bed. Everyone glanced nervously at it every once in a while, as if it was cursed.

The newsies decided early on that we wouldn't count our savings as they came; if we weren't making money as quickly as we would've hoped, it would be discouraging. Then we'd stop working so hard, making it even more difficult to reach our goal. We were better off just not knowing until the end.

After putting the money we earned that day on Specs' bed, Silver and I quietly went over to my bunk. I leaned up against the headboard and Silver sat at the foot of the bed with her legs crossed and her chin in her hand.

"Who're we missin' still?" Snoddy muttered, breaking the silence.

The rest of us peered around, trying to figure out who wasn't in the bunk room.

"Racetrack," Bumlets said.

Crutchy sighed. "Why ain't he heah yet?"

"I ain't seen him all day..." Snitch added.

Boots nodded. "Me neither."

Cowboy glanced uneasily at the metal box. "I say we should wait a lil' while longa for him."

The room fell silent again. The months leading up to now had flown by so quickly, but now every single minute felt like an eternity. We all waited to hear the front door open, but the sound never came.

Skittery inhaled, holding the air in for a second before letting it out. "He ain't comin'..." he decided. "Let's jus' do it."

Everyone mumbled halfheartedly in agreement and shifted a little closer to the center of the room.

"Who's gonna count it?" Itey whispered.

"I think Jack should." Kid Blink suggested.

I looked over at Jack. He nodded slowly. "Yeah... Yeah, a'right." He mumbled, getting down off his bunk. Cowboy took the box and sat down with it on the floor, leaning against the front of Specs' bed.

He slid the clasp over and the box sprang open. Jack laid the money on the floor while he counted it, doing it slowly and carefully so he wouldn't miss a cent. The minutes crept by even slower than before.

Cowboy finished, tossing the last dime into the pile. He stared at the money and blinked, showing absolutely no emotion. Every single one of us held our breath.

"It ain't enough." he struggled to get the words out, but everyone in the room heard him. I let myself breathe again, but my lungs felt weighed down. _All these months of working ourselves to death, and we still lost._

Everyone glanced around the bunk room for a minute. None of us knew what to do or say. Silver got up and went over to her bunk, while I crawled into mine; clothes and all. Jack left the money on the floor and climbed back up to his bed. The rest of them followed suit without saying anything to anyone.

Kloppman didn't budge from where he stood, staring blankly at a spot on the floor for a while. He finally sighed. "Can't say we didn't try," the old man muttered. "We tried. Put up a good fight, kids... I'se sorry."

Kloppman turned off the light and closed the door.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

Even though I was supposed to be working at Tibby's the next day, I never showed up. No one went to sell papers, either. Kloppman didn't wake us up that morning, knowing that we wouldn't be leaving the lodging house until evening.

We had the rest of the day to pack up our things. Even though none of us had more than a few changes of clothes and one or two personal items, it took us the majority of the afternoon.

The weather that day reflected everyone's mood. The thick clouds that covered the sky made it so dark that it barely mattered if the sun had decided to rise that morning. The wind hit against the windows all day, making them creak and groan.

I took my time putting my belongings into the knapsack that I had brought from the orphanage when I first came here. I guess I had it in my mind that if I dragged it out as long as possible, something would change between now and the time we would have to be out of there. Nothing did.

One by one, the newsies picked up their things and made their way downstairs to the lobby until it was just Jack and I in the bunk room. He was lying in his bunk with his arms folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

"Jack... You a'right?" I asked softly. He didn't budge, didn't even blink. I sighed inwardly and picked up my bag, slinging it over one of my shoulders. I turned to leave and made it to the doorway when Cowboy spoke.

"I'm da leader... I was supposed to be able to keep all a'dem togedda," His voice was unnaturally calm.

I turned back around to face him and was met with a complete view of the bunk room. Every bed was neatly made, worn brown blankets tucked in under the mattresses. Some of the open drawers revealed that there was nothing in them and the hooks on the walls were bare, too. In the short time that I'd been there, I'd never seen this room even close to being so orderly. The usual untidiness, with clothes thrown everywhere and belongings scattered across the dressers, gave it a lived-in feeling. I liked it better that way.

"It ain't yer fault, Cowboy," I mumbled. "Like Kloppman said, we put up a good fight." I put my hand on the door knob and faced the hallway. "You comin'?"

Even though I wasn't looking at him, I knew that he shook his head. "I'll be down in a lil' while," he replied.

We could've left at any time, but we wanted to stay until the last possible second.

Sometime around five in the evening, it started to snow outside the lodging house. It was the first snowfall that year. At first it alternated between snow and icy rain as the temperature teetered between freezing and just above freezing. But once it got dark, it dropped steadily and turned to strictly snow.

Three minutes after Jack came downstairs, (Just about a quarter to eight), Kloppman came out of his office in the back. He went over behind his desk, which was just as empty as the bunk room, and took the spare set of keys out from a drawer. They joined the main keys in his pocket.

"Everyone got everythin'?" Kloppman asked. Instead of answering, the newsies stood up from the couches and chairs, shuffling towards the door. Kloppman waited until we were all outside before he locked the door to the lodging house. He wished us all good luck and then started off down the street, heading for Mr. Bartlett's house so he could drop off the keys that no longer belonged to Kloppman at all. We stared after him, quickly losing sight of him through the thick downfall.

Then we turned to each other and exchanged glances. Everyone muttered their goodbyes before we split up, going different ways. We weren't the Manhattan newsies anymore. Some would become Brooklyn newsies, or Harlem newsies; Others would sell in the Bronx or Queens or Midtown.

Silver and I started to walk in no particular direction. Blink walked next to Silver, and Specs ran to catch up with us. "Where are you guys headin'?" His voice was almost lost in the wind, but not quite. I peered over and saw that Dutchy was next to him.

"Ain't shoah yet," Kid Blink replied. "But I don't think we'se gettin' too far in dis storm..."

The wind whipped my hair around my face wildly. I hugged my jacket around myself as tight as I could, but the cold air seeped through like it was netting. Watching it from behind the lodging house window, the snow seemed to fall silently. But now that we were out in it, it was brutal.

Our group of five headed down towards Brooklyn, but not one of us had any intention of making it there. The storm was getting worse, throwing almost 3 inches of snow at us every hour. Our shoes were soaked through and through and the wind was beating so hard against our faces that they were going numb. Our hands were so painfully cold that they felt the exact opposite; like they were on fire.

About halfway between Queens and Manhattan, we stopped. There was no way to escape the cold, but we could escape the wind. The five of us found a dead-ended alleyway and decided to stop there for a while. Crowded against the walls of the narrow alley, we were at least guarded on three sides. Snow still fell from above us.

"E-E-Ella..." Silver's voice was weak and irregular. "El, ya sh-should go back to d-da orphanage."

I shook my head.

"Y-yes. Dis s-storms bad, El. You'se gotta g-get inside."

There was no way I was going back to the orphanage unless Silver came with me, and we both knew damn well that she couldn't. I shook my head again. "I-I ain't... l-leavin' ya out h-heah."

The side of her mouth turned slightly upwards in a grateful smile. "Y-you'se real stupid, El," she joked.

I laughed slightly, but it turned into a chain of weak coughs. My lungs felt like they were frozen.

For hours we huddled in the alley, dreading when we'd have to start walking again. I knew that we were all silently debating staying there. The cold was slowing down our bodies, making our blood move sluggishly. Every time I made a sharp movement, I felt dizzy. One thought kept coming back into my head. _If I could just fall asleep, everything would be okay._

"Sp-Specs..." Kid Blink whispered in a raspy voice. It took all my energy just to pick up my head. Blink was shaking Specs' arm, but he wasn't stirring.

"H-he ain't movin'..." Blink shook his arm again with more force this time. Silver crawled over to where Specs was lying against the wall. She took her numb hand out of her jacket pocket and put it over Specs' forehead. "Crap... He's g-got a fever, I think."

Dutchy's eyes went wide as he stared at his unconscious best friend. "No, n-no..."

"W-we'se gotta get him in-inside somewheah," Blink decided. "If d-dat fever gets any h-higher, he c-could..." His voice faded out. Dutchy's face turned even whiter.

"W-we can try to make it t-to Queens," Silver suggested.

"What if d-dey're ain't a-any room?" I asked. "The way d-dis snow's fallin', every lodgin' house in New Yawk City's gonna be filled to da brim."

"It's worth a sh-shot. S-say dey don't have room for all of u-us, all we gotta d-do is make 'em t-take Specs... He's in d-da worst shape," Blink said.

Using one of the crates next to me, I pushed myself up from the ground. My head surged with pain and I closed my eyes tightly, seeing lights flashing. I steadied my breathing and my balance before I opened my eyes again.

Dutchy was having trouble lifting himself out of the snow. Very slowly, he pressed his hands against the wall behind him, working his way up. When he finally got to his feet, he swayed for a few seconds.

"Dutchy... Y-you a'right?"

His legs buckled and he collapsed forward onto his knees.

Silver stumbled to her feet and hurried towards him, helping him out of the snow. "I... I c-can't walk right... M-me legs are too numb. I can't f-feel 'em." Dutchy whispered anxiously.

There was no way Dutchy would be able to make it to Queens.

I racked my brain for a solution, but nothing seemed like it would work. If we stayed in the alleyway Specs could die from the cold, but we couldn't make it to Queens when Dutchy's legs were giving out on him.

"I'se got an i-idea..." Silver said. "E-Ella, you stay heah wit D-Dutchy. M-Me 'nd Blink will carry Specs to d-da Queens lodgin' h-house. If dey'se got r-room for all of u-us, we'll c-come back heah 'nd da three of us will b-bring Dutchy th-there."

My brain was moving so slow that I had to wait a few seconds for Silver's words to sink in. Finally, I nodded. "A'right."

I watched Silver and Blink drag Specs to the center of the alleyway so he was lying flat against the snow. "R-ready?" Blink asked. "On da c-count of three."

The two counted in unison and, with Silver holding his shoulders and Blink holding his feet, they picked Specs up. I waited for them to disappear from the mouth of the alleyway before I slid back down into the snow.

Dutchy was sitting up against the opposite wall. I snuck a glance at him. His entire body trembled and his breathing was loud and jagged. Behind his glasses, Dutchy's eyes were open wide and focused on the bricks that made up the dead end.

My eyelids were slowly closing, feeling almost as heavy as my lungs. I couldn't focus. The sound of wind whistling loudly through a nearby chimney barely registered in my brain. My head bobbed forward like a cork in water and I started to nod off.

I'm not positive how long I was in that heavy, dreamless state, but after a while my eyelids fluttered open again. The burning sensation in my hands and feet was gone now; all I felt was numbness. Snow was still falling mercilessly from the dark gray sky above the alleyway. Looking around, I figured that about 4 more inches had gathered while I was asleep.

I raised my head from where it lay on my folded arms. Dutchy was still sitting against the wall, but his eyes were closed now. He slept with his head lolling forward against his chest. Dutchy's body was still shaking violently.

"D-Dutchy..." I was amazed at how feeble my voice was. Even though we were only sitting about six feet away, he would never hear me through the storm.

Using all my strength, I pushed off the wall and landed on my hands and knees. I didn't bother trying to get to my feet, because I knew I wouldn't be able to. I stayed on the ground and crawled towards him.

"Dutchy... W-Wake up," I begged. Unlike Specs, Dutchy showed some sign of being alive. He moved his head so that it rolled to the side and rested against the brick wall. His eyes didn't open, though.

I studied the boy. There was a layer of thick snow that had built up on his shoulders and legs. The blonde strands of hair that hung in front of his eyes were coated in ice. His lips were chapped and bloody.

I pressed my hand against his face. He didn't have a fever, I thought, but if he continued to sit out here in the snow it wouldn't be long until he got one.

The closest lodging house was Queens, but I knew I couldn't get him there on my own; I'd have to wait for Silver and Kid Blink to come back and help me.

I desperately looked around the alleyway. There were a few crates sitting near the opening. It was better than nothing.

Retrieving one of the crates, I went back over to where Dutchy was. I kicked in the front and back boards of the wooden box. Then I ripped out the collapsed planks of wood so that the crate resembled a small square tunnel.

With much difficulty, I was able to drag Dutchy inside. His legs stuck out the back, but at least the upper half of his body would be warmer. After a few minutes of debating, I crawled in with him.

The walls of the crate were so confined that even when I scooted as far away as I could and laid on my side, my arms were still touching his chest. Still, the crate would keep the snow off of our skin and our body heat inside a closed area. I decided that maybe both of our body heat combined would be enough to keep us from freezing. Ignoring the nervous butterflies in my stomach, I curled up my body and put my head against Dutchy's chest. Then I fell back asleep.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

So Dutchy and Ella are taking a little catnap together :). Awww...

Too bad they're in the middle of a blizzard, stuffed in a crate.

Thanks so much for reading, guys. I really appreciate it. Reviews would be cool, too, if you get the time. I'd love to hear what you think of this.

I'll have a new chapter out soon. Hopefully in four days?


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: And yet again, I am forced to rub it in my own face that I do _not_ own Newsies.

So technically, it's been five days since I last posted. The 22 to the 27th. But it's really only been the 27th for an hour and 28 minutes, so let's just say it took me four days to post, meaning that I have (basically) achieved my goal. Woooooo.

Now. This chapter occurs before the last chapter. It's a flashback, hence the centered and bolded word below that happens to read "Flashback." It explains what happens before Jack and the others find out they don't have enough money. It's also in a different point of view. Sorry if it's a bit confusing. And on with the newsies.

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**Flashback**

**"**Whadda ya mean ya don't gots any more!?" he yelled.

"I mean we'se outta papes, kid! It happens! Get here earlier next time!" Weasel's replacement was a bit nicer, but not my much.

Racetrack Higgins opened his mouth to scream, "So print more!" back at the man, but the window was shut in his face.

Practically steaming with anger, Racetrack trudged down the steps and through the black gates. Today wasn't his day.

In the line for the morning edition (He had actually been able to buy papes that time), Jack told all of the guys that the newsies would be counting the money that night. So Racetrack started his day out with a huge burden over his shoulders.

The weather was bitter, so customers were hard to come by. When a potential buyer _did_ happen to walk by, they would angrily wave Race away, trying to get to their destination without freezing first. Discouraged and cold, it took the boy until 15 minutes after six to sell most of his morning papes. Now he had to go and do it all over again.

Or at least that's what he planned on doing. But afternoon edition papers went on sale at 3:30; nearly three hours ago. Racetrack hurried back to the circulation desk and got on the end of the line. At least it was short. Five people stood in line before him. He kept moving up until he was standing in front of the desk. Just as Racetrack opened his mouth to buy his papers, the man behind the counter told him that the boy before him had bought the last few papers.

Race was furious. It was just his luck, too.

On his way out of the distribution grounds, Racetrack fished around in his pocket for his cigar. Then, putting it up to his lips, he lit a match and touched it to the end. That was just about the only thing that could calm his temper after having a stand-off with someone.

At least he got to go back to the lodging house and get out of the cold for a while, he thought. Still, he felt guilty. This was his last chance to earn money to put towards the lodging house. He felt like he was letting his friends down. But there really was nothing he could do.

Pushing the door to the lodging house open, Race discovered that it wasn't much warmer inside than it was outside. There wasn't a fire in the fireplace, which meant Kloppman wasn't there. Racetrack kept his jacket and hole-filled gloves on as he collapsed backwards onto the couch.

No one else was around. They wouldn't be, he decided. Everyone was still out selling the afternoon edition. _He_would be too, if he had just gotten there in time... Racetrack took another puff on his cigar to flush out the sudden surge of aggravation.

He shivered, wondering why it was so cold inside. Race sat up straight and peered around the lobby, looking for the source of the draft. The door was shut all the way, and so were the windows by the fireplace. Then he noticed that the small window off to the right of Kloppman's desk was cracked open a bit; not enough to be realized upon first glance, but enough to make the entire room freezing.

Race heaved himself up from the couch and crossed the room. He arrived at the window and pushed down on it will all his might, but it felt like it was frozen in that position. Finally, it shut with a loud _bang_that echoed throughout the lobby.

It would be a while before the lodging house started to warm up. Racetrack turned towards the couch again, blowing hot air into his hands and then rubbing them together.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed something sitting on Kloppman's desk. The small metal box with all their savings was perched on top of a large pile of paperwork.

Racetrack started walking again, side-glancing at the box as he passed. He went back to his spot on the couch and tried to relax, but he couldn't. The thought of the box with all their money in it was taunting him. He glanced at it once again, wondering when the rest of the guys (and Silver and Ella) would be getting back. Then they could count it.

Race wanted—no, needed—to know how much money was in that box. The very room he was sitting in depended on it. _Whose stupid idea was it to wait until the last night to count it, anyway?_ He wondered.

_Oh. Right. Mine. _

Racetrack hesitantly stood up from the couch again and advanced towards the box, staring at it all the while. He got to Kloppman's desk and slowly reached for the box. His hands hovered over it for a second as if the metal would burn him if he touched it.

He suddenly picked it up, examining every side closely. Then Race shook the box. The change in it rattled, but not loosely. There wasn't much spare room in there. It _sounded_ like a lot of money, but how could he be sure?

Race took the box back to the couch with him and placed it on the beaten-up coffee table in front of him. He took a seat and stared at it curiously, as if he was waiting for it to do something. But for the ten minutes that Racetrack gawked at the box, it didn't do anything special. It just sat where he left it.

He reached for his cigar in the ashtray, but thought better of it and just left it there to burn out. Not even a cigar could calm his nerves this time. The anticipation was killing him.

Race took his pocket watch out of his jacket and stared at it. Ten minutes to seven. The guys didn't usually get back until around eight. "Dat's over an hour from now!" Racetrack mumbled aloud to himself. He sighed and put his watch back in his pocket.

With one more glance at the box, he made his decision. He pulled it towards him and fumbled with the clasp in front until the top sprang open. It _looked _like a lot of money, too. But then again, Race had never seen what was supposed to be 120 dollars. How was _he_ supposed to know what it looked like? Racetrack took a deep breath and began counting the money. Despite his brain's aching desire to know how much was in the box, Race counted the money slowly and carefully. He placed each coin in a pile on the coffee table, keeping track by saying the number out loud.

Finally, the boy put down the last coin and ended with the number "$103.90."

"103?" Race muttered. "Dat can't be right..." He refused to accept the fact that even after months of hard work, they could still fall short of money. As panic started to rise up in his throat, Racetrack silenced it by telling himself that he had just miscounted.

After adding up the money a second time, Race realized that he was right; he did miscount. But only by two cents, and that wasn't the mistake that Racetrack was looking for. His total this time came to $103.92; those two cents wouldn't make a difference. Even after everyone put in their profits from today, it still wouldn't make a difference.

Suddenly, he wished that he hadn't counted the money. Race couldn't sit around and let the newsies add up their savings when he himself already knew the outcome. He couldn't watch his friends be disappointed the same way he had been.

Most of all, Racetrack couldn't watch his friends leave the lodging house for good. Race had come here when he was only 7 years old. Aside from Jack, Snoddy, Specs and Skittery (Who had already lived there when he arrived), Race had watched every single one of the newsies come to the lodging house. He had seen them turn it into their home, just like he had done.

Racetrack decided that he wasn't going to stick around and watch them leave it behind. After putting the money back in the box and the box back on Kloppman's desk, Race went up to the bunk room to get his stuff together.

He hurriedly stuffed all his clothes into his old knapsack. Race had made it out of some rope and a brown burlap sack before he ran away from home. He had kept it under his bunk all these years incase, God forbid, he had to pack up his things and leave again.

The last thing he grabbed out of his now-empty bedside drawer was his cigar money. The 75 cents that he was saving up to spend on a few top-of-the-line cigars. Recently, he was planning on giving it to the lodging house fund instead, but Race decided that he might as well just take it since they were losing the lodging house either way.

Throwing his bag over his shoulder, Racetrack headed for Brooklyn. On his way out of Manhattan, he avoided passing the places where he knew his friends would be selling.

As it got later and later, the air continued to get colder. Race reached the Brooklyn Lodging house around 9:30 and knocked on the door.

Racetrack and Spot Conlon hadn't always been on good terms. Before the strike in 1899, the two boys had difficulty getting along. Both were willful and sharp-tongued, so they didn't mix well together. However, during the strike they both shared a common goal, and they both needed the other side to achieve it. The two weren't the best of friends now, but they could stand each other.

Race gave in 5 cents in exchange for one of the last bunks in the lodging house, and he had gotten there just in time. Guttersnipes were pouring in from all over Brooklyn, claiming that a pretty nasty storm was coming their way. They would settle for a spot on the floor so long as it meant a roof over their heads.

The storm didn't come that night, but the clouds looked heavy and ominous from the next morning into the afternoon. Still, Race didn't feel like sticking around too long. He picked up and left before evening rolled around.

It was even colder than the day before and Racetrack had no idea where he was headed. He wandered around Brooklyn for a while without a destination in mind and, as always, his feet led him straight to Sheepshead Bay.

There couldn't have been more than 50 people there. No one besides himself and other gambling addicts would be crazy enough to watch horses race on a day like today. But since Race figured there really wasn't anything better to do, he might as well place a bet.

He wandered up to the betting desk and was greeted by a short, heavy man with a thick gray mustache. His brown woolen scarf was wrapped tightly around him, making it seem like he had even less of a neck than usual. The cold made his nose and cheeks bright red.

Racetrack recognized him by face since he was always working there, and vise versa since Race was always placing bets. But neither knew each other by name.

"Which one's it gonna be today?" the man asked.

Racetrack peered past him at the large chalkboard on the wall of the booth. He scanned the names. His favorite horse was racing today. Racetrack usually bet on a brown horse named, "Lightning Comet;" his favorite because he always lived up to his name.

But today Race had a gut feeling that he should go with another horse... He scanned the names written out in white chalk. The name "Blizzard" caught his eye.

There had never been a race that he could remember where Blizzard had won. And Racetrack came here all the time. But looking up at the darkening sky, the name seemed appropriate. Instinct nagged him to go for it.

Race took out 50 cents from his pocket; way more than he ever spent betting on horses at one time. At this point, though, he really didn't care. They had lost the lodging house, so what did it matter? "50 on Blizzard," Race decided.

The man behind the window stared at Racetrack for a second before he started to chuckle. He pushed Race's 50 cents back through the space underneath the bars. "I suggest ya rethink yer decision."

Racetrack shrugged. "I'se still bettin' on Blizzard," he said again.

The man sighed. "Look, kid... Da odds are forty-four to one. It'll be a near miracle if dat horse wins."

"The odds aren't _dat_ bad," Race replied. He'd seen worse.

"Dat's cause barely anyone's heah today. I can assure ya, if dere were three hundred people over dere in dose stands," the stout man pointed to the empty benches surrounding the track, "it would be two hundred ninety-nine to one. I'se tryin' to do ya a favor."

Race picked up his money and stared at it in the palm of his hand. Maybe he _should_ just go with Lightning Comet. He had won a few dollars off the horse before. Maybe it would happen again.

"Hurry it up, kid. Da race is gonna start soon."

He looked down at the track where the horses were beginning to line up behind their starting gates. Out of habit, his eyes immediately found his favorite horse. Then they drifted to the white horse standing at the next gate over.

"50 on Blizzard," Race said, sliding the money across the desk again. Hands in his pockets, he walked away before the man could try to change his mind again. Race sat down in the stands as soon as the shot was fired to start the race.

The horses took off. At first it was hard to tell who was in the lead; all the horses were in a large cluster as they started off. Soon, though, the faster horses took the lead and the slower ones fell behind. Blizzard was one of the horses running towards the back.

Racetrack groaned and let his head fall forward against the rail in front of him. "I shoulda jus' listened to dat guy," he muttered. He stayed like that for the rest of the race, looking down at the concrete ground and wishing he had remembered to take his cigar from the ashtray.

Had he been looking at the track, instead, Race would have seen that in the last 40 seconds, Blizzard had started to pick up speed. The white horse was darting between other horses, making its way to the front.

A bell sounded, meaning that one of them had crossed the finish line. Race didn't bother raising his head to see which one.

"First place: Blizzard!"

Racetrack's head snapped up. He stared in amazement as the white horse slowed to a stop, followed directly by Lightning Comet.

"I... I won?" Race sounded more astonished than excited. He turned his head and gaped in the direction of the betting stand. His brain kicked into gear and he tried to do the math in his head. _What did that man say the odds were? Forty four to one_?_That would mean that I won..._

_Twenty-two dollars. _

He absolutely couldn't believe it. All these years of betting at Sheepshead Bay, and Racetrack had never even won more than 3 dollars at a time. Twenty two was just incredible. He could do a million and one things with twenty two dollars. All the possibilities started to run through his head. _I could buy a permanent box heah, or... or a hundred cigars, or a new pocket watch...Or..._

_Or I could save the lodging house. _The idea hit him like a ton of bricks. _Maybe it ain't too late._

Racetrack scrambled out of his seat towards the betting stand. The snow started to fall just as he was about to collect his money.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

So is Bartlett gonna except the money? What do you guys think?

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed last chapter. I hope you all got the private messages I sent. If not, you have permission to soak me. (Oh, and some of you hit the nail right on the head with what was happening with Race... I'm proud of you guys :D.)

Now, I was planning on finishing the last chapter to this story by tonight. Unfortunately, though, I have grown immune to the magic of caffeine. Two cups of coffee. And you know what? Absolutely nothing. I'm exhausted. Tomorrow is homecoming for my school, so I've got a parade and a game (12 hours of non-stop bandgeekness) all day. If it gets rained out, I'll try to write as much as I can. If not, the updates may be a little slow. Sorry :(

Thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I'm not claiming ownership over the Newsies... However much I may be in love with each and every one of them.

Hi guys! And how was everyone's Halloween? Good, I'm hoping. I dressed as a Newsie. Surprise, surprise. Sorry this update took a little time. I've been way to scatterbrained lately. The past week had been kind of eventful...

Speaking of eventful, I went to the city yesterday for a school trip to some museum. Afterwards, we got to walk around a mall and I bought a new newsie hat :D. My fourth one; It's black and white with cool little line designs on it. I slept with it on last night. Just cause it's way too comfy. My mom tried to take a picture of me sleeping with it on, because I think that no one believes her when she tells them how obsessed her daughter is with this movie. I'm gonna start wearing them to school just for the hell of it. In the words of my good friend Liv, "Maria... You need a life. And you need to stop buying those things." Anywho, here goes. Enjoy.

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_"Dey ain't heah..." _

The voice was faint at first. Instead of coming from one particular direction, it seemed to echo around me, almost as if I was imagining it.

_"You shoah? Go check towards the back." _

Another voice echoed in my head, but this time it was louder. Both voices were unfamiliar to me. I tried to figure out who they were looking for. The thought triggered a chain of other questions.

Where was I? Every once in a while I'd feel a hard surface under me, but then it would fade and I felt like I was weightless. I was teetering between reality and a dream for a while and I couldn't figure out which state I was in.

_"Dere! Look, I see somethin'! They're over dere!" _

This time I knew that voice. It was Silver. She sounded like she was closer than the other two and I desperately wanted to open my eyes, but I couldn't; my brain felt like it wasn't attached to my body anymore.

_"Oh god, guys... Da drifts ova heah are deep. Hurry! Help me dig 'em out..." _

I knew that voice, too. It was Kid Blink. Panic was evident in his words; He sounded terrified and desperate. I tried to remember anything about where I was or what had happened, but all I could picture was whiteness surrounding me in every direction.

My train of thought was starting to fade again and I had no perception of time. Hours later, it seemed, someone spoke again. The voices were back to being barely there, hollow and far-off.

_"Look... Look at deir skin. It's practically blue... Aw shit, guys..." _

Something was pulling me by the ankles, dragging me. Suddenly, the feeling of my body returned. I could feel the immense pain in my head, the ringing in my ears, the coldness of my hands, and my back scraping against something solid. Then it disappeared again. I lost all sense of my body, pain, and thoughts. The white flashed one more time and turned to black.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

The next time I was aware of another feeling, it was heat. I was completely bereft of fresh oxygen and my skin felt clammy from sweating. I was under a pile of heavy material that crushed down on me, suffocating me.

"It's so hot..." I must have muttered the words aloud, because I received an answer.

"Yesterday you woulda been beggin' to be set on fire. Now you'se complainin' 'bout da heat."

I opened my eyes and tried to look around. The light was overpowering and I had to shut them again, waiting for them to stop tearing. The second time, I opened my eyes cautiously and waited for them to adjust.

I was lying on the floor, layers and layers of blankets covering me. I quickly kicked them off and a wave of comfort hit me when I felt cool air on my skin.

Turning my head to the side, I realized that Silver was sitting next to my "bed," her legs crossed and a newspaper in her lap.

"Ya know, dese things aren't so bad when ya don't gotta sell 'em. I mean, a'course our versions of da headlines are more interestin', but look at dis," She held the paper up, flipped open to a particular page. "Severe Blizzard Hits New Yawk City. Did you have any idea? I had no idea..."

She grinned broadly at her sarcasm and put the paper back in her lap, continuing to read it.

I let out a weak laugh. "What're you so happy 'bout? Da five of us almost died ..."

She shrugged, still looking down at the newspaper.

"Yeah, well... But we _didn't_."

Thinking back on it, I couldn't understand _how._ The last I remembered, I was curled up in a crate in an alleyway, my limbs so numb that they might as well not even have existed.

I sat up slowly, trying to avoid making all the blood rush to my head at once. I peered around the room. There were people scattered all across the floor, blankets under them, acting as beds. Dutchy, I noticed, was the closest to me. He had kicked off his blankets in his sleep and was curled up, his knees pulled to his chest. Dutchy's glasses were lying beside him on the floor.

Sunlight was pouring in from the windows. The snow that had gathered on the windowsill outside was catching the light, glinting brightly.

The floors were wooden and the walls were covered with a light beige-colored wallpaper. It slightly resembled the Manhattan lodging house lobby, but this room was smaller and had less furniture. I guessed we were in Queens.

"How'd ya get us back heah?" I asked, looking back towards Silver.

She looked up this time. "Well, it wasn't exactly easy," Silver commented. "After me 'nd Blink carried Specs back heah, we took two Queens newsies wit us 'nd went back to look for you 'nd Dutchy."

So the voices I heard had really been there. They had completely slipped my mind until now.

"We couldn't see ya at foist... We thought you mighta left by yerselves... Anyway, so we finally found ya in dat alleyway, stuffed in a crate 'nd covered wit 'bout 2 feet of snow. Go figure."

"So everyone's a'right?" I questioned.

Silver nodded. "Yep. Specs was a lil' sick for a while, but he's doin' better now since his fever broke. He's got a bunk upstairs. One of da lucky ones... Dis place is so crowded 'cause of dat storm; Dere's newsies scattered 'round in every single room. Wouldn't be surprised if ya went upstairs to take a bath 'nd found one sleepin' in da tub."

"And Dutchy?" I tried to make my voice come out somewhat casual, but it was nowhere near relaxed.

Silver disregarded the nervousness in my voice. "He's fine. Woke up a few times in da last day or so, but he's mostly just' been sleepin'."

I lowered my head back down to the pillow on the floor and closed my eyes. Despite the fact that I had been sleeping for almost an entire day straight, I still felt drained.

I was almost asleep again when I heard someone walking down the stairs.

"Hey, you," Silver said.

"Hi." The voice belonged to Blink. "I hoid ya talkin' to someone... Is Ella awake?"

Silver must've nodded, because I didn't hear a response from her.

"Did ya tell her yet?"

"Nah... Not yet. Figured I'd let her sleep some more befoah we got her all wound up."

"Tell me what?" I muttered, suddenly becoming alarmed. For the past couple of days I had just been concerned with our small group of newsies, trying to make sure only the five of us were kept alive.

Abruptly, I remembered that there were more of us, scattered in different parts around the city. What if the storm had been more severe where they had ended up? I didn't want to think about how bad of shape the rest of the newsies would be in then.

When I didn't get an answer, I quickly sat up. "Tell me what?" I asked again, more anxiously this time.

Silver and Blink exchanged glances.

"Someone stopped by dis mornin' while you was sleepin'," Blink replied finally.

The worst went through my head. _It was one of the newsies with bad news. Someone must be really sick... or worse._

I gulped."Who?"

"One a'Spot Conlon's newsies. Name was Flint, I think... He came wit news 'bout Racetrack."

My mouth fell open. "About Race? Why? What's wrong wit Race?" I panicked.

Silver laughed. "Nuttin's _wrong_ wit him, El! Calm down, ya look like you'se 'bout to be sick..."

"He's fine," Blink chimed in. "Actually, dat's un understatement, really. Da pipsqueak's better den fine. Race is great, actually. We ain't too shoah 'bout da details yet, cause Flint couldn't stay long; he still had to go 'round the city and try to find da rest of da Manhattan newsies, but..."

"But we think he's got da money for da lodgin' house. Enough to pay off da debts when he adds it to our savings," Silver finished.

I suddenly wasn't tired any more. Excitement started to flow through me for the first time in months. "So we'se getting the lodging house back?!"

Blink shrugged. "We ain't shoah... Da money's a few days late, so I ain't shoah dat Bartlett's gonna take it. He mighta already gotten anudder offer on da place..."

"I'm guessin' it'll be a couple more days until we find out. Kings says we can stay heah till we figure out what's goin' on, though."

I assumed that Kings was the leader of the Queens newsies. Bit ironic, if you asked me.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

Over the next couple of days, Silver, Kid Blink, Specs, Dutchy and I stayed in Queens. We didn't bother to sell; none of the newsies did. It would have been pointless to go out. Barely a soul walked around the snow-filled streets of New York City.

On about the fourth day we had been there, Boots and Itey showed up at the Queens lodging house, coming from Brooklyn. The usual forty minute walk had taken them over two hours because of the ice and snow. According to the two newsies, the Brooklyn lodging house had been far too overcrowded, so they decided to come here. It wasn't much better, but at least there was a bit of floor space they could sleep on. Blink asked them if they knew anything else about Racetrack, but they were just about as clueless as we were.

"Maybe he ain't got da money... How could Race come up wit dat much money in one day when it would've taken all of us two more weeks?" Boots asked.

The night that Itey and Boots came, the seven of us crowded around the small fireplace in the lobby, trying to figure out what was really going on. It was long after everyone else had fallen asleep, but we were sick of waiting for an answer.

"It's impossible," Itey commented.

Silver looked up from the fire, scanning each of our faces with her eyes. "C'mon, guys... Dis is Racetrack Higgins we'se talkin' about. Ya know how he is wit gamblin' 'nd stuff. He's sharp."

Blink bit his lip, thinking hard. "Yeah, I ain't sayin' he's not... But who in deir right mind would bet twenty some odd dollars in a game of poker?"

"Who said it's gotta be poker, though?" I added.

Silver suddenly sat up straight. The gears were starting to turn inside her head. "Yeah! El's right! I mean, how many times a week does he go to Sheepshead Bay to bet on horses?"

"And how many times a week does he come back empty handed," Boots replied dryly.

Specs shrugged his shoulder and sighed. "Maybe he jus' got lucky dis time."

"Let's hope so," Itey concluded. Those last few words hung in the air for a while. We were all trying really hard to stay positive, but it just didn't seem likely that we'd get our lodging house back.

I was starting to get discouraged. Our only reasoning behind this had been one of Conlon's newsies who had gone through the trouble of trudging through 2-foot snow to get to the other lodging houses around the city. Maybe he had just been wrong about Racetrack. It had been four days and we still hadn't heard any more news on it.

Tired of trying to think of more possibilities, our conversation ended there.

I glanced over at Dutchy, who hadn't said a word all night. Sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, his chin was propped up by his fists. He stared intently into the flames, watching them flicker. The light played across his face, switching between shadowed and lit a few times every second. The fire reflected in his glasses.

I sighed and looked away, lying down on the wooden floor and pulling my blankets up over me. We were all asleep by the time the fire died, leaving only ashes and dwindling embers.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

It wasn't three hours since we fell asleep when there was a sharp, urgent knock on the door. I groggily sat up and rubbed my eyes, looking around. The lobby was still dark, but now there were squares of orange light on the opposite walls, coming in from the windows. The sun was just about rising.

The insistent knocking came again, reminding me of why I had woken up in the first place. I tossed my blankets off of me and absentmindedly stumbled to my feet. With my eyes half open, I almost tripped on a boy sleeping on the ground as I wandered to the door. On the third knock, Silver awoke and sat up, followed by Specs and Itey. The three of them stared after me with a look of puzzlement, but everyone else was still out cold. I opened the door and a gust of frosty morning air hit me.

Then, after rubbing my eyes again, I looked outside to see that Racetrack was standing on the stoop. He was flushed and breathing heavily from the cold, but he didn't seem to care. Race had a broad grin on his face and a lively look in his eye.

Glancing past him, I saw that several other Manhattan newsies were farther off, down near the street. Bumlets, Snoddy, Jake, Mush, Pie Eater and Snipeshooter were shivering out in the cold, standing next to the piles of melting snow that had been pushed aside for the carriages. Still, they looked happier than ever.

As my mind cleared from the sleep, I started to piece things together. Maybe Racetrack was rounding up the Manhattan Newsies from the different parts of the city. Maybe we had gotten our lodging house back. Hoping I was right, I shot him a confused expression, asking him with my eyes.

"Who's heah wit ya?" Race asked, nodding behind me towards the door.

"Silver, Blink, Specs, Dutchy, Itey, and Boots," I replied.

"A'right... good," he muttered. His smile grew even bigger. "Wake 'em up 'nd get yer stuff together. We'se goin' home."

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AHHH One more chapter!!

Unless I decide to split it into two. Meaning that (For those of you who don't do math on the weekends) there would be two more chapters left. (haha). I dunno. We'll see.

Thanks so much for reading! I'd love to hear what you guys think so far, so please review if you get the chance. I'll get the next chapter out as soon as I can.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: You see those twenty some-odd wonderful boys dubbed 'The Newsies'? Yeah, they're not mine.

It's been a really long time since I said I'd update, and I didn't update. I know. I'm sorry. But I decided to leave it as one (very long) chapter, because I love you guys so much. And because four is my lucky number. (1 x 4 is 4). So enjoy.

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"Now you'se shoah 'bout dis, Ella?"

I nodded firmly as I took the plate that Loretta had handed to me. After drying it well and placing it in the clean stack, I held out my hand for another one.

Lor sighed while she scrubbed the dishes, her hands submerged in soapy water. She shut off the faucet and passed me the last glass, turning to look at me with her elbow on the rim of the sink. Loretta smiled. "I'se jus' gonna miss ya 'round heah, dat's all."

I smiled back, putting the glass down and tossing the dishrag onto the counter. "I'm gonna miss ya, too, but ya know da newsies... Dis is they're usual hang-out. I'll be stoppin' around heah all da time."

Loretta nodded and gave me a hug. After pulling away, she held my shoulders at arms length away. "Well, what're ya still stickin' round heah for? It's yer last day on da job, way past 7, and yet you'se still heah," Lor said, ushering me towards the door. I laughed and grabbed my jacket on my way out.

"Don't forget to hand in yer apron to Frank, a'right?" she reminded me.

"A'right," I replied, untying it as I walked out into the main room.

It had been just about a week since the Manhattan newsies got their lodging house back. We had been able to round up everyone who had been living there before, including Kloppman. Everything was back to the way it used to be, (cluttered bunk room and all), and the newsies were thrilled to have it that way.

I had decided that since we didn't need extra money to put towards the lodging house anymore, I was going to quit my waitressing job at Tibby's. There were some things I would miss about it, (like the people, for example) but for the most part I was glad to get out of there. I wasn't much of a waitress. Believe it or not, I think I was more cut out for selling papes. Or maybe it was just that I liked working with Silver and the rest of them. Either way, I had grown to love being a newsie.

"You out of here, Ella?" Frank asked, looking up from the cash register. The restaurant was starting to clear out from dinner and I assumed that Frank was recording the day's earnings.

"Yep."

"Okay, then." Frank took out a small envelope from behind the counter, handing it to me in exchange for my white apron. It was my pay for the past couple of days.

"Thanks," I said.

He nodded. "It was nice having ya around. Come on back if you ever need another job. I'm sure Lawson wouldn't hesitate to hire ya again."

On my way out the door, I waved to the rest of the workers in Tibby's, who said goodbye in return. Then I started heading back to the lodging house.

.-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-. .-:-'-:-.

My breath rose in misty clouds near my mouth every time I exhaled. The sun had gone down hours ago, making the night even more freezing. The cold seemed to bite right through my clothes. At least the skies were clear, though.

Some of the snow from the blizzard still remained on the side of the road. The white patches on the sidewalk that refused to melt had turned to ice, forcing me to skip over them so I wouldn't slip.

When I reached the lodging house, I found that every single light in the place was off aside from the two small lanterns on either side of the door.

I thought it was really strange that no one was around... Sometimes the newsies would all go to Tibby's, but I had just come from there and I hadn't seen any of them. _Maybe the headlines were bad and they're still out selling..._ The thought seemed unrealistic. If that was the case, at least a few of them would have given up by now. I hoped that there wasn't another problem with the lodging house...

When I climbed up the steps, the door was unlocked. I pushed it open and stepped in, only to be faced with complete darkness. I would have to feel along the wall for the light since it was near the opposite wall. I shut the door behind me.

"SURPRISE!!"

A chorus of about 20 voices echoed deafeningly in the room. The noise made me jump out of my skin, stumbling backwards against the door. Still, I couldn't see what was going on. The room was still pitch black.

"Oh! Oh yeah, lights... Sorry," Skittery's voice said from over by the light switch.

He flicked the switch and the lobby filled with light. A few of the newsies shot him irritated glares while Skittery just shrugged innocently.

The room looked cleaner than it usually did. Instead of cushions and chairs being thrown all around the lobby, the cushions were placed neatly on the couch and the chairs were gathered over by the fireplace. There were a few purple streamers wound around the railing of the staircase.

"It's 'bout two weeks late, but better late den never, I suppose," Mush mused.

I was shocked. My eyes went from the decorations on the banister to all the newsies' faces. "Wow... You guys, dis is... Thank ya so much..." I stuttered. "How'd you manage all dis?"

Laughing, Silver threw her arm around my shoulders, leading me farther into the room. "We had some money left over from da lodging house fund, so we figured we'd put it to good use," she explained. "Happy birthday, El," she said. The rest of the newsies crowded around us in a circle, much like the night I first came to the lodging house. This time, though, they were greeting me with "happy birthday's" instead of "nice to meet you's"

Kloppman came down the stairs, holding a record player in his arms. "Found it. It was all da way up in da attic, stuffed in a box behind the—Aw, is she heah a'ready?"

The newsies laughed. "Yep, Kloppie. Jus' came in, ten seconds ago," Jack replied.

Kloppman sighed. "A'right, a'right. Well, Happy birthday, Ella," he said, clearing off some papers from a side-table and replacing them with the record player. Kloppman put the old record down and positioned the needle on it. The room filled with lively, crackling music.

For the first part of the night, the newsies just hung out around the lobby, drinking soda and talking.

A bunch of us were crowded around Racetrack, listening to his riveting "How I got Bartlett to give us the lodging house back" story, when Silver pulled me away by the arm.

"Hey, Silver..." I greeted her. "Where we goin'?"

She was trying to hold back a grin and I could tell. "I gotta show ya somethin'," she replied, leading me towards a door in the back of the room.

I raised an eyebrow and glanced at her skeptically. "A'right..."

When we got to the door, she opened it and nudged me through the doorway.

"A kitchen?" I muttered. "You wanted to show me a kitchen?"

I had never been in there before. Since Kloppman couldn't cook for beans, the kitchen was never used. The newsies just got their food from street vendors and restaurants like Tibby's. Kloppman didn't even bother stocking the ice-box or pantries.

Before I could turn around to ask Silver _why_ she was showing me this, I heard the door slam shut behind me. I whirled around and jiggled the knob, but it wouldn't move.

"Silver...? Silver!"

"Yep?"

"C'mon! Open the door..." I begged.

"Uh... Yeah. It's stuck. Lemme get Kloppman," Silver replied. I heard her footsteps fade and I waited at the door for over 15 minutes, but she didn't come back.

I sighed and wandered over to the island of counter space in the middle of the room. Then, after heaving myself up onto it, I sat there and waited further.

Maybe this was a lodging house thing that I wasn't aware of. Maybe instead of putting candles on a cake to represent each year, maybe they locked you in the kitchen for that much time. _Nah..._ I decided. _I've already been in here for over 17 minutes._

I tapped my fingernails on the wood and swung my legs back and forth over the edge of the countertop. And waited. Eventually, I lost track of time.

The sound of the door opening again forced me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see Dutchy stumble forward into the room. Then the door shut again with a loud _bang._

Dutchy pounded on the door with his fists. "C'mon, Specs! Dis ain't funny! Lemme out!"

Specs (whom I assumed was the one who shoved him into the kitchen) didn't reply.

Dutchy eventually got tired of banging on the door and let his hands slide back to his side. He sighed and turned around, scratching his head in deliberation. His eyes finally met mine.

I guess he didn't realize I was in there, because he straightened up and shot me a surprised look. "Oh... Hi," He muttered, nervously rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"Hi," I replied.

He leaned back against the door for a while and I continued to swing my legs above the floor, both of us avoiding each other's gazes. I tried to think of something to say to him, but my mind was blank and there was a lump in the back of my throat. I tried to swallow it, but it came right back.

"Specs lock ya in heah, too?" Dutchy finally muttered.

I shook my head. "Silver."

He nodded understandingly. "Some best friends we'se got, huh?" Dutchy asked sarcastically.

"Heh. Yeah."

The room went quiet again. The only noises, being the sole of Dutchy's shoe tapping against the tile floor and the sound of water running through the pipes, seemed to grow louder each minute. The music coming from the record player outside faded into the background.

When Dutchy sighed, I brought my eyes up to look at him. He wandered over to the counter, taking his time. Then Dutchy lifted himself up onto the wooden countertop, sitting beside me. His legs absentmindedly swung back and forth slightly. The way his fingers on his right hand fiddled with the hem of his shirt told me that he was just as nervous as I was. Besides that, though, he didn't show it.

"I think we should, ya know, talk 'bout dis. If we ever wanna get outta heah, dat is," he said.

"Whadda ya mean?"

As he looked down at his feet, one side of his mouth turned up into a half-smile. "Well, dey didn't choose two people to lock in heah at random, dat's for shoah."

I smiled, biting down anxiously on my lip. My fingers went back to tapping on the wood. More silence followed.

Realizing that I wasn't about to start any conversations, Dutchy took a deep breath. "I ain't been tryin' to ignore ya or anythin', Ella. I know we ain't talked in months, but dat wasn't what I was aimin' for or anything."

"I know," I replied.

He turned his head towards me and looked directly at me for the first time since he entered the room. "I really did wanna talk to ya. Honest," Dutchy told me.

My curiosity was starting to rise above my nerves. "Why didn't ya?"

Dutchy shrugged a shoulder and looked away. "I dunno. Kinda felt like I crossed da line dat night in Central Park. I mean, ya seemed uneasy 'round me after dat... And I didn't wanna make it worse. And den dis whole thing happened wit da lodgin' house, so you was neva' really 'round anymore 'cause you was always woikin'..."

As he paused, I noticed that the music was no longer playing. I strained my ears to hear it, but everything outside the kitchen seemed hushed.

Dutchy didn't pay any attention to that; he seemed to be debating something in his mind. He opened and shut his mouth a few times before asking the question. "Member dat day I came to Tibby's? And I called yer name to tell ya somethin' else?"

I nodded.

"It wasn't jus' 'cause I wanted to change me order... I came to Tibby's to ask ya how ya felt 'bout what happened... wit me 'nd you. But den I chickened out. You'se always so hard to read, Ella... I ain't never been able to tell what was goin' through yer mind 'nd—"

"--I'se been sweet on ya since I met you." The mumbled words came out of my mouth so fast that I didn't even realize I had said them until a few seconds afterward. I don't know what compelled me to say it, because I absolutely never spoke what was on my mind; especially things like that. But now Dutchy was staring at me with wide eyes, almost as surprised as I was.

He gaped at me, blinking every few seconds. My cheeks felt hot; I was positive they were a scarlet color by now. I wished I could take back those words that had involuntarily come out of my mouth.

Dutchy broke the stare when a noise sounded from outside the kitchen. There was whispering coming from underneath the door.

_"Shh! I can't heah nuttin'!" _

_"Put a lid on it!" _

_"All a'ya, shut up, would ya!?" _

Raising an eyebrow, he silently hopped off the counter and started walking over to the door.

_"SHH! Someone's comin'..." _

The whispering immediately stopped, and Dutchy paused with one foot in front of the other. He turned around and shrugged a shoulder at me. I quickly mimicked the movement.

_"...What's goin' on?" _

Dutchy sighed. "Specs. Do me a favor. Get da package dats on me bunk upstairs." No one replied.

"Ya might as well jus' do it. I know yer dere," Dutchy pointed out.

This time, there was shuffling on the other side of the door. A minute later, the door quickly opened no more than a foot. A rectangular package wrapped in brown paper was slid across the floor. Then the door shut again and I heard the lock click. "Thanks," he muttered, picking it up and coming back over to the counter.

Halfway there, Dutchy stopped. "Oh... And go away, you guys."

A chorus of disappointed mumbling and a few "Aw..."s came from the lobby. Their footsteps faded as they dispersed from the entrance to the kitchen.

He reached the counter and stood in front of where I was sitting. Dutchy stared down at the brown parcel he held in his hands. Then, shyly glancing away, he pushed it towards me. "Heah. It ain't much, but I saw it and... Well, I thought of ya. Happy birthday."

I cautiously took the package out of his hands and, placing it in my lap, slowly unwrapped it. Underneath the brown paper and the string that was holding it all together, there was a brand new copy of_Oliver Twist._

Staring down at the book, I flipped through the fresh new pages. It had been several years since I had owned a book of my own; I had left all of mine behind when I went to go live in the orphanage. Ever since then, I had just borrowed books from the library.

"Ya told me it was one of yer favorite books... I tried to look for somethin' you ain't read yet, but I wasn't shoah which books you'se read already," Dutchy said.

"No... No, dis is pefect. I love it, Dutchy... Thanks so much," I replied, looking up to meet his eyes.

I unintentionally mirrored the smile that was pulling at the corner of his mouth. He stared at me through his glasses and the strands of blonde hair that fell in front of his eyes. When I sat on the counter and he stood in front of me, we were just about eye-level.

Dutchy slowly brought his hand up and placed it against my cheek. The nervous-excited feeling was gathering in the pit of my stomach again. "Ella... El." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yes?"

Instead of replying, Dutchy leaned over and pressed his lips against mine. The kiss was soft and sweet, just like the first one had been, but this time Dutchy seemed more sure of himself. I closed my eyes and put my hands on his shoulders, knowing that when we pulled away, things wouldn't be awkward this time.

I was too absorbed in the kiss to notice that the door had creaked open a tiny bit, and now there were about ten or twelve sets of eyes peering at us through the opening. Dutchy and I only noticed their presence when Racetrack let out a loud, involuntary, "Aw! Look at da two blondies!"

Dutchy and I both pulled away, blushing furiously. I hopped off the counter and stood beside him, staring down at the tiles instead of at the group of newsies gathering in the doorway. He took my hand and laced his fingers with mine.

The guys bombarded us with questions, the most common one seeming to be, "You guys togedda now?!" Dutchy looked down at me, almost as if he was asking my approval. I smiled broadly at him.

"Yeah..." He nodded, looking confidently in the direction of the newsies. "Finally!" Specs exclaimed. A round of applause started to spread throughout the group until Silver, who had Blink's arm around her shoulders, quieted them.

"So now dat you two have accomplished what we locked ya in heah for..." I shot Silver a look filled with mock-anger. "I think it's time we let ya out. C'mon, El... We'se got another surprise for ya."

"Oh no... No more surprises, Silver..." I mumbled.

She laughed. "I promise you'll like dis one."

Sighing, I shrugged and started towards the door. "So long as it's not da inside of a closet dis time..." I muttered. Dutchy held onto my hand intently as we left the kitchen.

The side table that had been holding the record player was now in the middle of the room, a white cardboard box on top instead. I raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, but the newsies nudged me along until I was right next to it. I carefully pulled back the cover to reveal a vanilla cake, cursive pink writing across the top of it.

"Ellie!?" Race exclaimed, looking over my shoulder. He smacked his forehead with his hand. "I told da guy a million times! Ella! Wit an 'A'!"

Looking down at the cake, I went into a fit of laughter. The others joined me, and soon we were all hysterical.

About fifteen minutes later, when we had all caught our breath and the tears of laughter were all wiped from my eyes, Kloppman shushed us and started to light the candles with a match. All the other lights in the room were shut off as the newsies began to sing, "_Happy Birthday" _to me.

At that moment, I realized that I had made the right decision in coming to the lodging house. Although I missed some of the people at the orphanage, I had no regrets about leaving. I belonged here with the newsies.

As the song came to an end, I looked around at the smiling, half-shadowed faces of everyone in the room. Standing to my left was my best friend in the entire world, to my right was my newly-acclaimed boyfriend, and crowded in a circle around me was my family.

The seventieth and final candle on my birthday cake was blown out, and I decided that there was no need to make a wish.

THE END

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Wow. That ending was pretty cheesy... Even for me :)

So I hope you guys liked it. Feedback on this story would just be ever-so-glorious. Speaking of which...

Huge thanks to the following people (who happen to be quite incredible) for your reviews and such: danc4him, energizerturtle45, Facetiouslymischeivious, HunkyChunkyMonkey97030, ImaSupernaturalCSI, ktkakes, MontanaSky, NarniaRulz, Passionate Fire, Pippa Kelly, Racerchick, SantaFeDreamer, SilverRain1.3, Spaz-24601, Spinner, SuNsHiNe and GiGgLeS, Swiveling Sharpies, Trignifty, and washedaway56. Also, much appreciation to my beta reader, Tetris. If I forgot anyone, by all means, yell at the Links.

This is the... ::opens up a new internet window to count::... Woah. Eleventh story I've posted on here. I think I have a new idea for another story, but I'm kind of afraid it's going to turn out like just about every other fic on here. It may be a while before I post anything new, as I am working on ideas to make it somewhat original. I'm gonna mess around with ideas until I find something that will make it different.

Thanks so much for reading. Hope to talk to you guys again soon.


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